Chapter 2

“Omar,” he proclaims pointing to himself. Then he introduces the others. I am not sure why.

Then he says no more. Either he did not understand my offer or he is choosing to ingore it on purpose. The lasso continues its lazy rotation, and his eyes—amber and utterly indifferent—slide past me as though I’d made no more sound than the wind through the branches.

The three newcomers spread out with practiced efficiency. Two females, barely three feet tall, their green skin darker than Omar’s, wearing leather harnesses across their chests and carrying coiled ropes. The younger male, perhaps an apprentice, clutches a wooden prod and watches me with hungry fascination. They’re not approaching yet—just positioning themselves, cutting off angles of escape like drovers cornering a spooked mare.