The Sunspire The sound of their tongues being bitten is all I hear.

Now it was the old man's eyes changed. They did not become alive, only focused, trained upon Sivugat's face in a manner that the boy did not appreciate. He did not like to be looked at; too many days had been spent with his own thoughts as company that Sivugat did not know what to do with eyes upon him.

I know them. He lifted his lip as he said it. His eyes were locked upon the ragged figure, wanting very much to seek another path, or an angle of attack, or something that would ease the tension that he felt. The anger at being stared at, or talked to, or controlled.

He could not take his eyes from the threat of the man.

I know they're afraid to fight. His voice is rough. Sivugat sneered through his bare teeth, unaware that his path of egress was being cut off, and still somehow confident of himself. He had survived this long as the punching bag of many different people — what could an old man do?