Sunspire Mountains all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach

Par for the course, most of Esmé's smarcasm flew right over his head. A bit naively, he assumed her tongue-in-cheek reply was fully factual; that there might be bandersnatches and goblins about, waiting to yoink her to some netherealm. Even if he was to the type to put a word in edgewise, Esmé's candid sweep of his condition, followed by her voice, stayed any response the boy might have.

Dirt in... what?

His ears flicked back as he tried to make sense of her comment, looking first on his unwounded flank, and then, to the side that had been dug into like the corner of a couch by a cat: the viscera was startling and ribbed in subcutaneous white; Riley flinched at the sight and then looked haplessly back to Esmé.

Recounting a story in great detail was not a life-skill Riley had. His gaze flickered unevenly as he tried to turn his mind backwards, to delve into the swampy, foggy area of his memory-core. It was mostly just emptiness there.

"I was walking along this red scar, and this man found me. I've seen him before. He asked me to fight once and I said no. He calls me Peaches." Riley didn't realize this was not exactly riveting information, and continued. "He showed me where the food is. Then another man told me to check out a waterway that was east of the red sands. So I checked it out, but then I thought I scented you. So I followed it. I was at this place with the soggy trees resting and I got attacked by some wolves there. Then I was running and found you."