“I could go either way. But it’s true, he has a plethora of people to shower him with love and attention back at camp. And,” Gale raised a finger, musing, “fewer opportunities to be caught in a murderous crossfire. People do have a tendency to and try to kill us while out on the road. Not that I’m saying that’ll happen on our little shopping excursion, but it still pays to be prepared! Which is to say— time to make our escape?”

And so, the pair of them hurried off. Scratch was likely distracted enough now that he’d retrieved his ball, and with so many of their companions nearby to fawn over him (even Shadowheart seemed to be thawing to him, shaggy-haired canine as he was). They moved away from the glade where they’d set up camp, down the road towards the city; where there was a growing stream of people, shabbily-clad refugees, the crowds thickening the closer one got to Rivington and its markets and the walls of Baldur’s Gate looming above the town on its outskirts.

With each step out of the wilderness, Gale’s spine straightened and he seemed to exhale, settling back into his own skin. “I miss big cities,” he admitted after a moment, sauntering along beside Nepione, his gaze caught by those city walls. “Baldur’s Gate is similar enough, and yet Waterdeep is easily ten times the size, if not more. The forest does have its aesthetic merits, but I still admit to preferring a crowd, a bustling district, a busy shop.”