As the stranger seems to cool down listening to his words, the boy would relax himself for a moment. Only for a moment, though. Roy listens carefully as she explains what was currently ongoing in the group, his round ears twitching. He blinks, looking around as she introduces the concept of the Coalition of the Condemned. An odd name he'd never heard of before, and based off her warning it was not a welcome visit.

His voice lowers as he speaks again, words careful and unsure. "How did this happen?" he settles on asking, uncertain what to think immediately. Strangers took over Tanglewood - what reason was there to take over the swamp? Did they just want the land? Had his old home been struggling, unable to defend themselves? A world where this was the case had not entered the boy's mind as a possibility before. There had been no real threats to the members of Tanglewood before, other than the Pitt, and even they mostly stayed clear of the territory. He knows what a takeover could potentially mean, at least a little bit. His mind flashes back to the burning, the sunrise, for just a brief moment. This wasn't quite the same, however. "Is it...dangerous?" Had they hurt anyone? Was his father okay? Would he be more useful away from them, finding help elsewhere? His gaze turns, looks out towards the border as they grow closer to the town. But he doesn't know - it almost felt like running away. He's ran away too many times. But he didn't want to fight, either. He isn't sure he could.

Being in the background, going about a routine day was something the boy had been happy to do. While it perhaps wasn't the best, for his goal to make friends, to stay so attached to a boxed routine, but he'd the choice to be free now, and he was happy to let himself take time doing the small, miniscule tasks in the quiet background. It was comfortable, safe. But eventually, the coati knew he needed to do more. To be louder in a community. And the more he jumped into routine, the more demanding an old voice got. He didn't want to listen to it, he didn't want his father to be around to see him struggle with it. And so he'd decided, a few months ago, that he would leave and find something for himself. Deliver letters, write them - it was so much easier to articulate himself in writing, why not assist others doing the same? And so that's what he'd set out to do.

When he'd left, his father himself had been finding himself, moving between territories, and trying new communities. While he'd felt bad going, felt afraid of losing the attachment, change was something they'd both needed after all, he's sure. Bad things still happened, people still got hurt, and trust was still difficult, but the break from such a tight-knit community groups built was something he needed. He needed to learn more about the world he'd been given a second chance in, needed to meet more people, in his own way. And he wrote. And he read. The letters let him travel back and forth, all around the mainland. They were his gateway to finding more and more around the large island they all resided on, and his chance to learn in his own controlled environment. Earth and fire, no more wildfires, no more demands. Fear still. But he could do better now. And he missed his dad. It'd been long enough, and he was ready to open his mouth, and be louder.

The winged coati landed upon the familiar marshland, long tail swaying back and forth. He shakes himself as he lands, taking in the air, before lowering his head and moving towards the town, looking around in case anyone would try to stop him. It'd been a while, and he'd not been a remarkable member by any means. It was quite possible someone would think him a stranger, and so he silently prepped for the potential interaction of introducing himself.