Arrow Lake behind closed doors

Her counter was met with a pointed stare, an oblivious glance at the odd looking stump, and not a lick of guilt for what he'd said. Mesa looked at the injury and wasn't deterred, although he didn't like the look of it much, and even drifted closer so he could get a good look at it, as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. The boy had witnessed the wolves of Diaspora take down game animals for food and he'd witnessed a couple of spars, but never heard of a bear before. He scrutinized over the wound for another moment before growing bored of it.

Did it hurt? What's a bear? Did it eat your leg? The boy vollied question after question towards Kazimir, not really expecting any answers but having fun in trying to figure out what had happened. It wasn't out of some sense of care, because deep down Mesa didn't have that connection with Kazimir and was more interested in the injury for its nastiness level; he was the kind of kid that would've grabbed a stick to poke at a dead body if he should ever find one. Thus his words became the stick, and he prodded at her incessantly. Is that why you hunt small things? You can't do big things anymore?

He wondered what it'd be like to lose a limb - but didn't ask that, because speaking it aloud might make it happen.