Lion Head Mesa ashes

A crack revealed something, no matter how small. Tamar had been a daughter, yes, but that she had mentioned it and only it showed that being as much meant a great deal to her. Arsenio blinked but did not say anything to this statement. When he was no more than a stretch of auburn limbs, his father had tossed him from the stony peak of a mountain near a faraway sea. He did not know the love of his parents, but that did not mean that he didn’t wish for it.

When she asked him why he was there, the Greek man looked to her and studied her face. His expression was unreadable, but his mind churned like the ocean water.

I like your Φωτιά, the misthofóros said to her, his words plain. Your fire.

Tamar had spirit, that was for sure. She did not belong in a place like Akashingo. Arsenio imagined that she would make a good fighter, if it mattered.

Why are you here?

For the first time, Arsenio’s words did not mock her.