As Freddy rambles his increasing concerns, Micolash is briefly more wrapped up in mouthing the word 'California' to himself. Careful with each syllable, noting the position of his tongue and teeth: Cal-ee-for-nya. As if special effort will bring him to recall what land this California is located in. Surely he must have known it, once upon a time. Is that where the practice of sky burial and hunters of hunters surfaced? No, that was another city, wasn't it. Perhaps it's one of those small, remote villages buried in distant forests.

He only comes back to the conversation partway through, blinking as if coming out of a daydream. The worried question only causes the tattered scholar to smile kindly, patting Freddy's potentially blood-soaked shoulder in reassurance.

"Oh no. No, no, no! A hunter will remember each and every death. Every time a beast rips out their heart, every time their mind fails to feverish frenzy. And I'm quite secure in the knowledge that death of the body is what happened for me as well back in Yahar'gul. That was the purpose of the Ritual, after all. The mind persists when the body is discarded." He gives Freddy another reassuring pat, the action a bit wooden and stilted as if uncertain of his own mobility or how to measure his strength. "We are compatriots, you and I! Fellow explorers of the planes beyond physical limits."