That he was right about. The lords hadn't waited back home for her to mend the bond between her and her mother before going at each other's throats. Such was the way of warriors, she supposed, especially those that had been scorned as they had been by her words. Merida swallows that thought down, cupping her hands together in her lap as she gives a wry smile at his assessment.

"Aye. Well at th' very least this weather hasn't frozen us over yet."

Because she at least made sure to keep her dresses and cloak heated with a reapplication of the heating rune every so often. She raised her head, watching him sit with a bit of wonder on her face before she realizes something.

"Ah, forgive me, m'lord. My name is Merida."

No "of DunBroch", no "daughter of". Just Merida.