Sun Mote Copse burn the world that you call civilized

What did it matter where he came from? He was here, he could clearly be useful to them - but instead they kept on asking questions. The boy huffed and sank back upon his haunches, deliberating what to say; he no longer cared about the eviscerated bird and hardly noticed as he sat down in some of the cooling blood that touched upon the grass.

Finally he remarked, I was born in the mountains. Not these ones, but close. My -- dad died he could have divulged, but caught himself at the last second. He was bristling slightly, though not on purpose, trying to remain guarded. My caretaker died during the quakes, and I've been alone since. That was better; it wasn't the whole truth but enough of it.

Remembering the now-hazy moment where Kazimir had been crushed to death by the many hooves made him feel a bit squeamish, and he swallowed a lump in his throat, hoping he didn't look too green around the gills; he did not like questions.