[Beowulf looks at her for a moment. Then a moment longer. Then frowns slightly.]

Not telling the whole truth doesn't help anyone, master. And in the case of camping, might be dangerous. Or potentially not helpful to you.

[He wouldn't let it go completely. Of course not, why would he when she was probably all sorts of stressed right now? Even less so when she was avoiding his staring. He certainly won't stop her, but he also would rather have the knowledge that she was going to be fine.]

Not a problem. If you ever want or need something let me know; or let any of the others know if you're not comfortable with me.