Cough. Cough. Cough.
Sol suddenly broke into a violent, hacking cough, covering his mouth with his hand.
"Sol?" Lyra asked, alarmed.
"Smoke!" Sol wheezed, waving his hand. "Inhaled some smoke from the fire earlier. Just... tickle in the throat."
Evara blinked, then a slow, knowing smirk curled her lips. She shrugged, letting it slide. "Anyway. He healed me. That's what matters. I haven't felt this good in years."
Lyra beamed, completely missing the subtext. She rubbed her own shoulder, wincing slightly, as the fatigue of the day caught up with her.
"That sounds wonderful," Lyra admitted, rolling her neck. "My back has been killing me lately, hauling these baskets up from the jungle. Maybe... if you aren't too tired... you could help me someday too?"
Sol looked at his aunt… still young, beautiful in a rugged way, but worn down by the harsh world.
He nodded hurriedly, a wicked, hidden smile etching onto his face that he quickly concealed by bowing his head.
