[ She doesn't take the food, but in too many ways that's to be expected. Maybe it's silly to treat the interaction like he would a wounded animal — but then not everyone is as hard-headed as Vikings (or, in some cases, as emotionally constipated). Hiccup doesn't press the matter, instead breaking off a piece and pressing it into his mouth as he swings the pack over his shoulder and rests the other piece on top of it; As much a sign as no it's not poisoned, let's share the meal, as it is to let her take it when comfortable.

His brows furrow at the question — a straightforward one that seems almost more accusing in nature. She's aware of the situation in some regard then, even if it hurts for her to think anything of the nature. He swallowed down the piece of bread his teeth had sunk into and shook his head. ]

Me? I don't intend to do anything to you. [ He pauses, glances back and seeing no immediate threat sits down next to the pack. ] Well, I do want you to eat and there's some water in there if you want it, but —

I want you to have a choice. I'm afraid you won't have it if someone else finds you.