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Thorn Paw did not comprehend Tristan's draw to the dark spire. He had to see for his own eyes that the evil contained within remained within. The newness of the stone was papery-thin, like the distance between this world and the stone-world was fragile barrier. The wrongness of the troll-stone rolled the globes of his eyes its direction, but finding it undisturbed, he propped his arms on his knees and rested.
A far journey. Across the eastern sea. To a land with mountains and trees. TREES! He smiled at the memory. Iceland was quite devoid of the territorial guardians. He attempted to relay the story of being sick on the ships, hurling and heaving on enormous storm waters.
The sharpness of his gaze fell then upon a ripple in the water below. "What is that?" He asked of Thorn Paw, gaze narrowed.