Setting aside Wrench's obvious familiarity with the terrain, it might not be as easy at first glance to tell which of the two men has been here the longest. The taller man continues to look unsettled as they walk, not so much out of concern for the erratic weather patterns or the impending dark, but over more intangible thoughts. Despite expecting no trouble, he's still chosen to carry more than just the one blade. A sword commandeered from someone who recently left this place makes a pretty obvious addition to his cloth and furs, but the others aren't so readily apparent.

Wrench isn't expecting the conversation, and it's hard to say whether he minds it or not. He's keeping an eye towards Iggy as they continue their journey, knowing soon enough they'll have to push through more woods and the thicket of overgrown branches that leads to the shrine. Why the structures always seem so far out when this kind of devotion is so common among the townspeople, he'll never know. Maybe it's the tendency so many of them have to offer up such personal things in their own sacrifices? He's not sure, and maybe for that reason he's also curious to see what this man offers. What his connection to spirits tells him is necessary.

I'm not a Christian. Wrench explains, though he supposes it hardly answers the question that was asked. You're going to be stuck here, you know? You can't just leave this place any time you want. So whatever you do now, you've got to live with those consequences.

Is this a lesson for Iggy? A reminder to himself? Is Wrench musing on the one thing here he still can't wrap his mind around?