Lion Head Mesa peach pit

It takes a lot for Drusk to admit to suffering. His life is one of desperation, and he thought himself crafty enough to escape this pit, or strong enough to withstand his time in this jail; it is not the first time, he's determined it will not be the last.

However—it is possible that this time in the pit, this month in the desert with the sun shifting through spring and in to summer with the only fluid afforded to him coming in his little meals, he knows there is only so long before he will be too weak.

Perhaps it comes sooner than he would like.

All the goading, and the the lunge against the wall, has drained much of his energy; so when she drops sand across him he cannot move out of the way so quickly. When the air clears and he's glaring at her again, he sees an unexpected expression on her face.

She's not afraid, exactly. The boy cannot parse what it is. Rather than demand answers or threaten further, she asks softly.

The boy scowls. Drusk?