That's a fair point, too. Sometimes you have to break to be fixed up again, which was the point Cricket was going to make, but Winter is not time for building or rebuilding.

He gives a small grunt when that hand hits his shoulder, but doesn't flinch or sway, just blinks and looks at the man like he's not quite sure what to make of him. Sensation tells him little enough, but what the old man says trips something in his mind, that's not quite a memory or a thought, maybe just a random instinct.

"Yessir," he says again, seriously, thinking of stars and snow. "My name's Cricket, sir. Ain't askin' for yours unless you want me to know it."

It might be better not to have confirmation of what is basically a wild guess based on nothing more than a word of advice.