Luneshale Pass you keep sayin' that i'm nothing like my father

"hola," a voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to find the pale, patchwork boy blinking in friendly manner toward her.

ah. . .the amazon's child. 

hola, she replied, knowing enough about verapaz now to understand that was a customary greeting. her voice was cold but not completely unkind. where's your mother?

no doubt growing soto's children, or perhaps tangled in intimate embrace with the man. the rejection stung greater than she could have even imagined, and it was difficult not to turn her ire upon this innocent boy.

fiamma managed, though, even if her watery smile was more grimace.