Oh, wow. [ If it's said to himself or to the stranger it's difficult to tell, but the full situation has finally been clocked. Zane is built for art, for creativity--practicality not so much, but that's where the upbringing comes into play. His homeland. The commune. Being one with nature to further his inspiration.

Plus, given the state of the other, even a fool would notice how terrible of a state he's in. Clothes not tattered, but well worn. Thin. Pallid. Hauntingly beautiful, strictly in a subject matter sense. ]

You seem to be found. [ Zane's hurriedly reaching into his pockets, managing to procure a small amount of dried meat he'd taken from the community hall before his walk when he decided he'd probably want a snack. He takes the other's hand, gently pulls fingers open if they're too stiff, and will slide the jerky into them. ]

Here. Follow me, hmm? I'm new here, too, but I've always been a guide. Are you cold?