Broken Boulder from rags to recovery

The androgynous-sounding bellow did not make him stop immediately. The sound of steps upon the pine needles behind him earned a shifting of his ears, then the turn of his attention as it was directed towards the oncoming figure. The silver filigree along Arcas' top-line began to stand on-end.

What. His voice sliced the air, while the look on his face was anything but friendly. Arcas was not used to being spoken to by any woman; perhaps this was a leftover from Mahler, some kind of good faith gift. Arcas thought back to their previous conversation and his eyes widened slightly—remembering the implication of Mahler's other offer.

Best to play it safe, then. I've gotta piss. Can whatever-it-is wait 'til I get back? But he was already moving off from where she lingered on his trail, hardly waiting for a rejoinder. Arcas didn't want to deal with this random woman, and wondered as he stalked along where her handler had gone off to—but Mahler was probably off exploring his new claim, leaving Arcas to babysit.

Fantastic.