The newcomer acted as if he were among old friends, sitting down beside the campfire with easy generosity. He smiled at Ruger and Layden, immediately reaching for the roasted meat. But the ravenous feast they had expected did not begin at once. He closed his eyes, raised the meat to his forehead, and muttered a few words. Only then did he smile sheepishly and begin to eat. The moment he did, his praise poured forth without end.
"It truly is more delicious than I imagined, my friend. You were right," he said to Ruger through a mouthful of meat.
"Were you praying to a god?" Ruger asked curiously.
The man choked slightly and accepted the soup Layden handed him.
"If a wizard prays to the gods, it must be to receive a god as experimental material," the man said after draining half the bowl of soup in one gulp. "This is merely one of my habits. My father was a druid. Ever since I was young, he would pray before meals. But we do not pray to gods—we give thanks to this world. It was the underground caverns that raised us."
Hearing that, Ruger recalled what he and the old kobold Lunse had discussed about the world and garbage. Whether this world was, in essence, an enormous dump or not, to those who lived here, it would never be some shabby rubbish heap.
As the man began on his second serving of roasted meat and fourth bowl of soup, Ruger and Layden remained patient and did not rush him. He already looked as though he did not have enough mouths to keep up with all the food.
"Oh, right. My name is Vito. Vito Belfort," the man found time to say.
Ruger and Layden gave their names as well.
Vito