It hurt, it hurt, it hurt! The boy was crumpled against the ground at the stranger's feet in the next moment, hardly resisting. He had been stupid to traverse away from the mountains and now - with the bellow of the crashing waves beside him and the smell of blood churning his stomach - Tiarnan was painfully aware of his poor judgement. But the stranger relented. He released the boy and stood over him, shining a dangerous and morbid smile his way. Why are you trespassing in my lands?
The silver figure demanded answers; Tiarnan of course had none to give. Yes, he had learned a bit of English in the company of Jinx and her ilk, more when he injured himself and was nursed back to health by a stranger, but... Nothing prepared him for this.
The boy stared up at the gleaming teeth, ripe and red stained by his very blood, and felt his mouth go dry. He swallowed (painfully) and attempted to roll his dark body against the sand — exposing his tender belly in an effort to appease the irate specter. Words did flow from his mouth, but they were a garbled mess of gaelic; slipping back to his mother tongue in this time of utmost distress. Ní le do thoil dom a mharú I. .. Bhí mé aon intinn chun pas a fháil isteach má tá talamh.
Oh god, why did this always happen to him.
Tiarnan was looking up at the face of the stranger, his bright eyes wild and wide. Something dripped across his snout from above and for a brief moment (a naive moment) he thought, perfect, rain. But the so-called rain was warm and streaked across his muzzle. One errand drip landed on the tip of his nose and assailed his senses with a very obvious scent, one that cleared up the momentary confusion: his blood was dripping off of his assailant's teeth and on to his face. Oh, he was going to be sick. Please,
He managed, fighting the gag that rose in his throat, Home. I... I looking,
Ugh, one day he'd learn to speak the foreign language of these beasts and stop sounding like such a fool; I need home.