Great Bear Wilderness umntu ngumtu ngabantu

praimfaya eyes him as he appears to freeze in confusion, the word wat, coupled with the confusion currently dominating the male's visage is enough to tell praimfaya what he means. at least, she assumes given the closeness the word harbors to the common 'what'. rotten meat. fly. she tries to communicate as simply as she can, again feeling that rise of confusion on the barrier that exists between them. it wasn't anyone's fault, she tells herself, again.

thankfully, however, he seemed to clue into her thought process with the rotting piece of corpse. flies loved rotting things, praimfaya had come to learn. she could only hope that the fly in his ear, told to be such by the distinct volume and sound of its wings, also loved rotting things. the young worlida really hoped that she doesn't need to result to her plan b ...which even from its conception hardly sounds safe.

is it working? praimfaya asks excitedly, hovering nearer, forgetting in that brief instance of radiant hope that he probably couldn't understand her.