Sun Mote Copse Run Down

she assures him that it’s ok, stating that she’s a leader and that what she says goes. distracted by the tremor in his legs; from the weakness of malnourishment and fear ( because, despite her attempt to reassure him he’s still understandably weary ), the pain and the hunger, rasalas doesn’t grasp just how fortunate he was that she found him. the thieves had claimed something similar, and then turned on him. he looks to her again as she says that if anyone had beef ( a term he hadn’t heard before ) with his presence she’d ‘pound their sorry ass into the mud’.

he doesn’t, for a second, doubt her words. she is stern enough that it is easy enough for him to picture.

despite his hesitation, a small chortle rumbles in his chest at her words.

there is something about her — perhaps, he thinks, it’s in the reassuring nuzzles that remind him so much of his amma — that makes him want, desperately, to believe her even as he hesitates. it is a constant war with his distrustful nature, which given prior experience, is the louder of the two warring conflicts in his mind.