Kurith is clearly in his element as he walks ahead of the cart, using a weathered and completely unornamented halberd as a walking staff. At a distance, his hands look disproportionately large, but that is an illusion generated by the stone-covered gloves he is wearing, each slat carved with a faintly glowing rune. (As he is fond of explaining, "Ye righ' daf' ta try'in war' off a haint wi' woo' an' iron, ye ken?") He's doing his best to keep alert, but the sounds of all the familiar, yet distinctly not the same animals is playing tricks on his senses. Not that he's ever been the finest lookout, either. The man's dumb muscle with just enough charm to make him endearing instead of obnoxious.
"So. Hush. Ne'er been, no' anykith o' mine. We al'ays haste through denser woods as these. Well 'idden f'om Fa'er No'thsta', wi' such coverin'. Welcomes ill-'earted folk 'idin' from 'is judgin' gaze."
He looks upwards, trying to see if the Navigator's Star is visible yet.
"Sun's near set. 'O's go' th' map? Any 'ope, an' 'ere's a clearin' prox we can' reach a'fore's full da'k."