Ankyra Sound they're lining up the prisoners and the guards are taking aim

The moment he spots her, his strides change only slightly. Moving in a direction very clearly her, she keeps still and stoic as she’s been trained to do so for years. Each point of her posture changes from one tick to the next, hardening her muscles in anticipation without exposing much movement. When he’s close enough, her head lifts slightly with the point of her nose.
 
He stands long of limb with odd, battle worn features and carries himself well enough across the sand she might consider him a sea dweller. In fact, his scent offers little knowledge other than the distance between him and his last home. “What,” she demands of him when the silence settles between them too long.