Ray gripped Viktor’s offered paw and pulled himself up. “S-Sorry. Dad always warned about bandits around here. I just...I don’t wanna end up like Ronnie.” He dusted off his tabard and adjusted his pack. With a bit of effort, the young raccoon drew the crossbow, and moved to load another bolt. Ray’s paw groped at the small quiver on his pack. Empty. Ray blinked and turned, head craned to inspect his pack. With a sigh, he slung the crossbow.