the evil eye has done its work;

The warrior-man was talking to him, but, quite honestly, Uwe did not care. It didn't feel safe to stay outdoors, and turning to respond or even vaguely pay attention was entirely too many things to attempt to do at once. If he'd stuck around to listen, to receive "wise words" or whatever old warriors gave, he would likely trip over one of the piles of sticks and fall flat on his face, either dying or - possibly worse - scuffing his clothes and making him look a proper ragamuffin. He was already short enough to be taken for a child - he didn't need to add "indecent care of clothing" to that sentence.

Uwe was entirely shocked, therefore, when a large arm came around his shoulders. Well, if he had to die, this wasn't the worst way. Not the best, either, but certainly not the worst. He hadn't been this close to another person for, well, quite a while, and he realized that his feet were forcefully guided, allowing his ears to actually process what the much larger man was saying to him. "Something was following me? Well, that does sound rather convenient, if it is true." He didn't quite glare, didn't quite disbelieve him, but he definitely tended towards skepticism. "And I wasn't running off! I saw the cabin." There was no doubt that there was pout in his voice, but he didn't seem Order and, therefore, likely didn't matter in Uwe's scheme of things.

The short man finally noticed - after all, as we've firmly established, multi-tasking was not a strength of the wind-mage - the tall man and the floating eyes. The very, very tall man. He was surrounded by giants, in a gross cabin, without a horse, and with way too much wind outside for him to be able to use. This was a nightmare, but not one of the ones he was wont to have. No one was trying to embarrass him in front of anyone who was actually important, so he supposed he'd attempt to get through this. Better with people than alone, he supposed, though he had no real proof.

Introductions - yes, that was a valid plan. No one else seemed to be speaking up, though they had, admittedly, theoretically said each other's names. He hadn't recognized them for names, but he hadn't really been paying attention. "I suppose we're here, together, tonight. I'm Uwe Winkler." He didn't need to tell them he was a witchfinder, that he was with the Order, that he though witchery a dangerous thing that should be regulated. They would ask or not, but he was feeling just petulant enough that he didn't want to share.