You and the Wyvern stay at either end of the driver's bench, keeping a comfortable space between you. Balthur has to put a little more effort than normal to cope with the extra weight, but otherwise things return to how they were before you found the Wyvern on the road.

Balthur stops in the late afternoon to set up camp. "You get firewood, son. We're going to have to do this ourselves, seen as this Wyvern doesn't breathe fire like his big cousin, the dragon." The Wyvern huffs at that remark.

Nicote nods and gets some firewood. The centaur hasn't asked his background and he's a nice distance from his hometown, which is good.

When you return to the camp, logs in hand, the Wyvern seems to have gotten comfortable in the back of the cart. It watches on sleepily as Balthur gets the kindling going, a woven mat of hay behind him.

"I hope you've got your own shelter, or you'll have to bunk with him," Balthur motions to the lazing Wyvern.

"..I'll find something." He wonders if one of the nearby trees would be a good place, he's found thy shield him from passerbys well.

You could set up your tent for the night if you wanted to.

Nicote suddenly remembers this fact. He digs it out and puts it up. Definitely would be a tre (which is what he's been doing for the last who knows how long)

(^.^)

The blazing fire heats up the camp. Balthur has settled down on the woven mat and appears to be reading a book, a pair of glasses on his face. The Wyvern's snoring could be heard from a mile away. It's probably because of its injury. Though you could help its flesh wounds, the damage that has been done inside will take some time to heal.

"We're less than half a days travel from the Central territories," Balthur says after a while, not looking up from his book. "I'm heading to the Adventurer's Crossroads to pick something up for a favour, then keeping on going west. You can travel with me for however long you want to, but your Wyvern's going to have to move when I collect the goods from the Adventurer's Crossroads."

"You're assuming he's mine?"

Balthur shrugs. "You've seen him. He likes you. Just too scared to show it. But in any case, he ain't mine, and he ain't staying past the 'Crossroads."

"Ah." Nicote wasn't sure If he wanted to stay on or not, right now his only goal was to get to somewhere where no one knew his identity. He wasn't sure if that'd been accomplished or not, but either way, he certainly wasn't being very picky about where he wanted to go.