In all honesty, Digger is not sure what he would do with a sword even if he had one, or anything like one. It feels more like something he should be concerned about than something he's actually concerned about.
But the offer of a companion is one he's unspeakably grateful for. (Twilight would be better, a part of his mind thinks unhappily, but that, he knows, is a useless way to think.)
"Wait it out," he agrees, and he almost wishes he had a weapon of some kind if only because it would give his hands something to do, something besides obsessively pick at a loose thread on his sleeve and tremble. "Yeah. It can't be much longer, after all, can it? There's not so many. They won't even pay attention to us, I'm sure, if we hide well enough - they won't even know we're here. And, well, they haven't got a reason to kill us, have they, not us, we're not even armed, we don't even know why we're here--!"
His voice is rising in pitch and desperation with every word, the tone of someone who would very much like what he he's saying to be true, but is pretty sure it isn't.
no subject
But the offer of a companion is one he's unspeakably grateful for. (Twilight would be better, a part of his mind thinks unhappily, but that, he knows, is a useless way to think.)
"Wait it out," he agrees, and he almost wishes he had a weapon of some kind if only because it would give his hands something to do, something besides obsessively pick at a loose thread on his sleeve and tremble. "Yeah. It can't be much longer, after all, can it? There's not so many. They won't even pay attention to us, I'm sure, if we hide well enough - they won't even know we're here. And, well, they haven't got a reason to kill us, have they, not us, we're not even armed, we don't even know why we're here--!"
His voice is rising in pitch and desperation with every word, the tone of someone who would very much like what he he's saying to be true, but is pretty sure it isn't.