Ren Rages-Against-The-Odds. Quite a telling name, wasn't it? Assuming those names were bestowed on individuals according to their deeds, rather than inherited, that would mean..... what, exactly? An outrageously stubborn, miraculously lucky, perhaps too-courageous warrior snatching a near-impossible victory from the jaws of certain defeat? Someone who triumphed during what should have been a last stand, perhaps? He supposed he could see it. Even taking some care not to hurt him, Ren's strength had been apparent.

Seteth's eyes lingered on her face, his own confusion and alarm softening to understanding as Ren spoke. Held in this position, what else could he really do? She must have been worried he would bolt, if he recognized her--a fair concern, given their circumstances. But given what she could have done to him, while he was in such a compromised position? Spending a few days bound and gagged had been ultimately nothing more than a stressful detour. It does force him to wonder, though: had she intended to turn him, if she had kept him longer? Had she been waiting for simple physical contact to do the job eventually? What if whatever her plan had been had failed entirely?

No, better not to dwell on what could have been. Nothing bad had actually happened. Everyone was young and foolish, once--the important thing was learning from it. "It was a bit of a scare, but there was no harm done in the end. So long as your later packmates were more agreeable, perhaps it was worth being waylaid."