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It was weird for Trent to suddenly be in this world where everyone was like this. He knew that he had to have gotten the ring in his ear some way, but honestly, he hadn't wanted to think about it. Now he realised that that unfortunate encounter might've been what had made him this way... Oh, he was being punished. How he regretted that outburst of gay now, the encounter with the other male, how he regretted that he was not normal, like his parents wished for him to be. How he wished to be.
He swallowed, wondering if it was truly that encounter that had made him to be this way. Curiously, but not without an edge of fear, he asked, How does one become one? I mean, why did this happen to me?
He could guess the answer, but maybe he didn't want to know. No matter how much he did not want to know, though, he knew that he needed to know. If Alder even knew the answer, anyway.
Then Alder moved back to the subject of packs, which made Trent feel a bit more at ease. At the mention of working with horses, Trent glanced back at Hawthorne from the corner of his eyes, and felt guilt churn at him again. He'd wanted to eat this male's horse, and now he was here, eating his food. Trent finished the last of the dried meat, glad that the evidence of his misconduct was now more or less gone.
Oh, I see. It was sort of like that at my old home, too.
Except that even though he had his own place and his own responsibilities, it was still his parents that had set those upon him and that checked if he fulfilled them. Hence "sort of". I ah, I'm sort of looking for a pack.
Hadn't he he already shared this tidbit of news? But I don't know anything about them, and I'm fearful they may be wary of strangers at their borders...
In other words; I'm a coward.