"I need something to get my mind moving again."
Soran held in a snort. Again? I don't think it ever was moving, he couldn't help thinking. But that was rather unfair. Rudgar was only a boy; he hadn't been with the bandits for more than a few minutes, he was a real thief (or at least, more of a real thief than Soran), and it was unlikely that he had lost family. They would just have to be patient with the boy. If he didn't do anything else stupid, he might live to be useful.
"There's 'stew' in that pot," he gestured to the pot of bubbling...liquid with a few morsels of meat and what passed for vegetables floating miserably in it. "It's not much and you have to use your imagination to convince yourself that it's food. But it's better than nothing."
While Rudgar filled one of the crude bowls with the watery substance, Soran watched him speculatively. Thin and wiry, the young man looked like someone that the old man would have chased off his property with a pitchfork in the old days. But that was then. Today, Rudgar was a companion. A companion who reminded Soran sharply of his eldest son, Rik.
He opened his mouth to say something to the boy, but thought better of it. No use bringing back bad memories. Or in making new ones.
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