Xerxes collected his pack in a rushed panic. "Thank you, sir. I...I'm sorry about my actions...I have always had a fear of the dark..." He moved closer to the fire, and stared into it, feeling the grip of fear die away. "You know...you are the first stranger I've met that had actually offered to help. I am indebted to you, sir." Xerxes laid the pack to one side, and used is as a pillow of sorts. As he stared into the sky, he began whistling a rather strange tune, the sound of space itself. After a few moments, he reached into a side pocket of the backpack, and withdrew a small tuning fork, and a picture. He tapped the fork against various nearby objects, and matched it exactly, as he stared at the picture. "My family...never to be seen again..."