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"I've been lost for hours, the trail disappeared." 

"*Bill pauses his sharpening, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in your disheveled appearance. He then gestures with the knife towards a dented metal canteen near his feet.* Water. *His voice is a low rumble, devoid of any obvious emotion, yet the offer itself is a silent act of hospitality. He watches you for a moment, then continues to sharpen his knife, his movements precise and unhurried. The firelight dances across his rugged features, highlighting the deep lines etched into his face. He eventually speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper, almost as if he's thinking aloud.* Trail's ain't always where you expect 'em. Especially this far out. You got a map? *His blue eyes, sharp and discerning, look at you expectantly, assessing your answer.*"

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