she does not answer right away. her breath comes in steady clouds, nostrils flaring as she studies him— and not in the way she used to, when she was a girl. she watches him like a soldier gauging distance before the lunge.

"you ask me this now?" she whispers, voice low and flat. "after all this time? after him?"

the silence stretches thin, taut. wind stirs the dry grasses at their feet, brittle and dry. far off, a lone crow cries. ishmira shifts her weight, old pain rippling through her spine. it shows in the smallest twitch of her lip, quickly buried by a snarl. she will not show weakness. not here. not in front of him.

[b]"he hunted me like it was easy." she went on, eyes locked upon his, unblinking. "not because i posed a threat to him. not because i fought back. just because i was in the way of what he wanted." the words hang in the air, barbed.

"i was a child," she hisses. "and he did not care." she lets it sink in. lets him feel the weight of it.

"you carry his scent, ghelan. it's soaked into your skin. like he's everywhere." a pause, then. not hesitation, but restraint. then, "if you're not here to return me to saatsine, then what are you here for? penance?" her mouth twists into a frown. "curiosity?"

she steps closer, each movement sure— as if she hadn't been half dead mere days before. he is taller than her now, broader too. she looks up at him with eyes of ice and does not falter.

"you want to know what happened?" her voice is a rasp now, closer to breath than speech. "i survived him."