Sage had prepared to start arguing with her again, though want sure if she was arguing back or not once she'd found the other now. He sort of just ran a tired hand down his face with a sigh, placing the last of his knives in it's pouch and shaking his head. "And how many arrows do you have," he asked, sitting down next to the fire, wondering if going back to sleep would even be worth it by then.

Sage grunted with a nod. It would last them a decent amount of time, though no more than a week or so. Even so, it was better than nothing. "That's a pretty decent number," he thought out loud.

Sage nodded with a sort of shrug. "If we can find the right feathers and ingredients for glue to make the shaft," he noted. It wouldn't be super hard, but out here there were no garuntees.

Sage grunted and shrugged. "We've been in the woods for a night. You're dirtied up enough for most people," he noted with slight amusement. "Besides, most people only see what they want to see. They won't think the princess is down with them even if you were out on the open," he added.

Though, at her next comment, he sat back down by the fire and cocked his head at her. "And I know you're Elara and you're a princess who wants to run off into the sunset forever but nothing else," he stated. He kept things not personal for a reason, but if she was willing to talk about herself, then he'd talk about himself a bit. But he wasn't just going to tell her whatever she wanted to know. That's how people got hurt. Killed. He knew better than to trust her that much.

Sage grunted and nodded, listening to her as she spoke, face softening slightly. "I had Liz at 17," he noted softly. "A kid is a lot of work for someone that young," he noted, shaking his head. "They should know that," he added.

He took a deep breath, sort of thinking how he wanted to word everything. "I was born out here, in an alley somewhere," he started. "My father was abusive, wound up beating my mom to death when I was around five. Smashed her head open on the cobblestone," he added. He didn't add that he still had nightmares about it, or that he constantly felt like his father was coming for him. "Wound up getting snatched by slave traders at some point, was there until I was twelve or so. Ran away from there after being tired of being treated worse than the chickens and forced it on things I didn't want. Wound up on the streets again, found a girl who helped me out. Wound up falling in love, like every other poor guy out there." He shook his head and pinched his lips together. "That turned out as bad as my father, except now I was sleeping with her every night. Liz happened, and I finally got the balls to run away with her," he added, a shrug moving his shoulders as he tried to downplay the events. "And now I'm here," he added softly, a bitter chuckle rising in his throat. "I think it's safe to say both our lives suck," he snorted, poking at the fire with the stick.