Hoshor Plains Can't be sure when they've hit their mark

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I always apologize for Dreven. I am not really sure 100% of the time how he is going to react. He sort of writes himself. He is a mature, dirty, mean charie. And as such if he ever does something in my writing that makes you uncomfortable please let me know.

Dreven hadn't learned much while here. Other than where the ugly, big beasts were. Where they slept, where they grazed.

They were fascinating to him in way of mindlessness. He didn't have to think hard about them. And he could learn enough to chase and hunt them when told too.

They gave him the ease to forget he existed, that Atka existed. He could just be, with empty head and heartless.

There was a different feel to the air here. When he had lived in the pit. The air had been thin, and yet heavy. Hard on chest and lungs.

The forest of ash had curled into his lungs and stuck. Like a frothy, melty nastiness that just settled on his inner organs and clung.

But here, here. The air was light and he could breathe. He didn't have to fight so hard for a breath. And it rankled, because he had fought to stay alive and here it was so easy it was disgusting. Especially when you hoped the devil would take you and end this freaking torment.

The air was disturbed as someone new clambered and clawed their way to him. Nape rose and he swung large head. Singular red eye. Burning. Gleaming into the hide of this diminutive one. Tiny and beautiful. She reminded him a bit of Atka. But there was a squirrelyness to this one.

She spoke and she stared. Tracing over his scarred face like it was art. He snorted. I was existing in silence obviously.

His voice raspy and rough from the scars that pushed on his throat. Pain shot up from one end to the other, but he continued.

Do we need to go behind a tree or something. Because the way you're staring. I can rearrange some organs.