Redsand Canyon Boiling blood will circulate [2]

He was a few laps of water deep when he felt eyes upon himself. Slurping his tongue back in to his head - but remaining hunched - Sivugat's shoulders bunched together, and he tried to listen, his one good ear pivoting, and watch, his eyes rising to trace the shapes mirrored in the water's surface. Something cream-white, but small. Not Nyra, then.

She moved with the same purposeful gait as the leader. The boy listened to her approach, heard the chuff, the words - and finally lifted away from the water to watch her properly. Across her face and neck was a network of terrible scars. His own wounds paled in comparison; but he did not gawk at them.

To Sivugat, those marks told him everything. That she was much like himself: beholden to someone here, nothing more than a pupil beneath Nyra, or a toy for those with power. Clearly someone - or something - had tried to tear apart the girl's spirit much like Sivugat's.

When she claimed to be a healer the boy's mind spun; he thought of the storehouse in Ursus, of Evien, and felt a twinge of some foreign nostalgia spark in his breast, before he suffocated it. There was no room for thoughts of the past here.

Aside from the brooding stare, Sivugat did nothing to warrant Arlette's continued presence. He wasn't ready to engage with anyone, much less someone on his own level, as it wouldn't benefit him in any way. So, unfortunately, he turned back to the water and dipped his head again, dismissive.