Serpent Lake that's not a riot - its a feast (lets eat)

There was no scent to the man except the lake water, which meant a spritz of fish scale and scum, and beyond that Drusk found nothing to indicate the biting sickness or anything. Even the scents that had been lingering, which reminded him sorely of the plains, had been soaked out.

Then he spoke, and the one word made Drusk draw back like a horse-in-bridle; a sharp tug, a frown upon his face. The man had grabbed for him and now what? Expected something in return? It was a confusing exchange for both involved.

Vos gende Drusk. Velzerikh?

As he waited for an answer, he finally withdrew enough to shake himself dry, at least partly. Evidently the boy trusted Gavrel enough to take his eyes away from him in brief, but when he looked back again his expression held unabashed betrayal.