The sun rose above the Wall, casting light and removing shades from the prairies of New North Haven. Shadows weaved back and forth under the grass, seeking more permanent lodgings.

The aborigines had left (disappointed) when he refused. All but one headed south, towards the burning horizon and to the Writer knows where.
The one who spoke Common remained, carrying nothing but the amulet and a small satchel. Herik could not refuse his insistence.

“I go with you. Such… strangeness… not be left alone,” the aborigine reasoned. “Now, where do we go?”

“Off to the capital,” Herik replied. “I need a word with the king.”
At this his companion fell silent.