Stavanger Bay Demoiselle

food. hunger. thirst. exhaustion. but had he not endured these cups poured out against the backdrop of cataclysm?
in response to the boredom perceived in the stranger's voice, lestan's dry mouth twisted in a self-deprecating smirk that was quite humorless and stood to unsteady legs. "need to look."
something hurt inside him at the pity in those eyes, and suddenly the blooms began to itch. he clawed them from inside the tracker's strap with a foreclaw, flung them to the sand, and started off back toward — well. east, away from the wavering trees which whispered witch.
and the stranger who wished to be merciful to a madman who had lost the one in life for whom he cared the very most.