Tormented Tarns nascence

Amsu turned at the sound of approaching pawsteps and smiled at the woman. She was dressed, much like him, in autumn colors. The colors of fire and of canyons. She would have fit right into his homeland… were it not war-torn. He hoped the marauders that had roamed his desert home for so long were all gone from that place, even if he never planned to return again. They did not deserve to feel the sun on their backs. 

“Amsu is searching for a new home,” he said, in his strange speaking patterns and accented voice. He kept his voice gentle and volume rather low. There was a tone of melancholy in it, as well, that spoke of many sleepless, wandering nights and memories of bloodshed. “Is this one searching for anything?”