How I Met My Friend, Verst

I spent the morning foraging in the Kiplisle Grove, and having little luck. I heard a voice among the trees that I did not recognize. Cautiously, I approached it.
 
This is how I met Verst, who remembers little other than his own name. He's older than me, with the curious wonder of a young child. We're going to stick together for awhile, I think. He's trustworthy, and I don't think he even knows what lying is. He needs someone who can prevent others from taking advantage of him while he relearns himself.
 
As we traveled along the road to Deadplains (I had to explain the concept of roads, carts, horses, riding, walking . . . so many things), we encountered a pair of unusually vicious, clearly deranged axebeaks next to an overturned cart. Two men had been killed by the creatures. The animals attacked us, and could not be reasoned with - they had a wild look in their eyes that I have never before seen. We dispatched the animals, but not without difficulty. Verst is very strong, thankfully. The men at the cart were already dead, so we made use of some of their things.