Wapun Meadow no rest for the weary

As expected and as hoped, Evien wasn't a part of his brother's merry band of men. Otherwise, Taylor would be incapitated already. The smaller boy doesn't seem surprised, and he thinks that he must be older than he seemed. There was a manner of competence about him that obscured any teenage desperation, and his voice is steady.
Taylor can only be in awe at the sort of people who always know what to respond with, and who can keep a conversation without it veering off into a mushroom-cloud explosion, who know when to sleep and when to laugh and when to cry.
Again, every cell in his body shrieks at him. A month. Maybe more. He won't be very happy when he finds me. A helpless, bitter laugh. It grates at his own ears too.