As the thunder rumbled in the distance, Josiah could only hope that Ansgar would lend him some good luck on this journey. The storm, he knew, would pass — it was just a matter of when, was all. But Josiah, if anything, was patient; despite his anxiety, he knew he could ride out the storm. His rural home had seen enough storms to teach Josiah how to properly wait one out. Just count the booming strikes of thunder — it would tell you all you'd need to know.
As Jack passed him a waterskin, Josiah looked at it curiously, before taking it tentatively. "Not water, huh..." he asked, staring into the waterskin, taking a quick sniff. It wasn't alcohol, from what he could smell, so he decided to take a swig, not waiting for Jack to answer. It had a strange taste — was it tea? — but it was drinkable, refreshing, even. "It's no water, but it's pretty good! What is this stuff, anyway?" He handed it back to Jack, spirits brightened a little. "Thanks," he noted, grateful.
"So I don't think you ever told me," Josiah started, taking off his hat and dusting stray bits of dirt from it. "So I apologize if it's too pushy of a question, but... why were you interested in this caravan, anyway?" He had been grateful that someone had shared an interest in all this, but he hadn't even stopped to think about why. "I mean, you know about my sister, but... what about you?" Was he merely curious — another sleuther like him? Or was there something more to it?