Sun Mote Copse This place rings with echoes

Hang on, she said, and turned to howl for someone — a very much appreciated effort, and undoubtably one of the few moments of kindness held within his mentally diminished brain. Yellowbelly listened as best he could as she addressed him again but he was still smarting from the pain in his sides; he could breathe, and it only really ached if he took a very deep breath, which might've meant he was actually healthier than he initially thought.

—what's yours? His what...? Oh! His name. Right, he knew this.

He knew his own name, didn't he?

The man had to think about it for longer than he thought was appropriate; but finally he looked at the girl and said, I think its... Larry. Talk about denoument. Whatever mystique he had been cultivating (intentional or not) evaporated as soon as the word left his lips; it didn't sound quite right, and after another pause to wrack his sore brain, he corrected himself — No, that's not --- I think its Larus. Yeah. That sounds... That sounds familiar. Only barely.