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Freyn followed at the end of the group, surveying the large cavern they had entered. Finally finding the source of these events was of great interest to him, and the story of this Stone had struck his curiosity. His boots padded lowly along the floor of the cave, making the familiar noise, and a loud echo following it. His old eyes darted across the tips of the slender peaks of ice, watching every slight movement or tremble of what was around him.
A few of those in the group divided, and he stood where he was, still watching the Cave cautiously. One hand was in his pocket, his thumb pressed on a small fur pouch of herbs and cloth, bandages and salves. He was not the fastest or strongest of this group, this he was oft reminded of. And so he though to provide service where it may be needed most, to those who may find trouble on their search instead of this Stone. He smiled as he recalled the worried mumbling of his wife as he left the tent, complaining that one so aged as he should not try such adventures of boys.
He chuckled inwardly, though saying nothing to the others of the group, as they waited for more to be said to him. The men they had chosen were good and brave, and he had no fear of this cave when trod through properly. Still, the familiar nagging in his gut told him that caution was always best, and his supplies would be well used by the end of this expedition.
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