Passing through the great arches of Markarth's stone gate, Grey's glacial gaze sweeps the crowd, dismounting from a rugged destrier looking to be as ill of temperament as it's rider. He leads the horse slowly, gripping it's reigns with his one good hand as he makes his way into the town square, where his gaze falls upon the figure to his left. An Urchin reaches lightly up towards a merchant's stall, apples piled by the dosen for sale, whilst the merchant deals with a particularly tight pursed customer over the price of cowhide. Reaching out with the quickness of a viper, catching the boy's wrist in the vise-like grip of his maimed hand.
"Don't think that guard up there is as blind as the good woman, lad." he gestures with a nod of his head from beneath his cowl, to a guard gripping a heavy shortsword at his hip.
"I had the copper, I just wanted a feel 's all!"
He smirks "Indeed, wish to earn some gold?"
the boy looks suspiciously at the figure, but his eyes brighten with a nod as he lays eyes upon the two beaten septims the dark clad man produces from his pocket, letting go of the warhorse's reigns, the well trained mount dropping his head to tug free a green weed poking up through the cobbles but remaining otherwise still.
"The Jarl called for swords... but I heard this in Falkreath, And if the Reach's men haven't lost all heart, they should be well on thier' way. Have they left?"
"Aye, you've not missed them by much, though...<The boy goes on to describe the assorted party members, saving a starry eyed comment for the lady Winter, with an innocence only a young boy can manage.>"
"My thanks, Dare much, lad" he nods to the boy, placing the two coins in his grubby palm, and leading his mount back outside the city. Leaping into the saddle with practiced grace, he thunders his destrier down past the mines till he reaches the bridge, dismounting to pick up on thier' trail. Lifting several pouches from his saddlebags, and removing his bow and quiver from his saddle bow. he whispers once to the dark mount, before watching it follow the road path taken by the party at a steady trot, soon catching up with the party, riderless and calm, save when any of the party attempt to grab his reigns, responding with an attempt to bite thier' hand. Whilst Gray himself takes to the hills, watching his mount's progress, and finally the party as it catches up, circling around to the road ahead of them, though remaining hidden.
