Catching the acute suspicion radiating from the young girl, Zeyra let out a dry, forced cough into her fist, her expression remaining deadpan.
"What?" Zeyra said smoothly, tilting the tip of her spear toward the sunlight. "Cravers just hammered the balance out of this stone head. It needs to taste blood against fresh hide, or the temper will settle unevenly. Don't look at me like that."
Without waiting for Sol to agree… or for Kira to voice the obvious skepticism burning on her tongue… Zeyra spun on her leather-clad heels and strode briskly down the dirt path toward the southern palisade, her stride long, brisk, and suspiciously impatient.
Sol merely chuckled, offering Kira an amused, helpless shrug. He reached down, lightly ruffled the top of Kira's hair despite her indignant swat, and gave her a lazy parting grin before turning to follow the scout's briskly retreating silhouette.
