K'luha's small form slipped through camp with minor difficulties. Despite the permanent limp, she made quick progress through the more difficult terrain to the center of tent. The stink of salted cooking meat assaulted her senses the closer she got. K'luha wasn't sure why it smelt so foul to her, perhaps it was the salt. Yes, that was probably it, she reasoned with herself. The meat smelt like someone was pouring salt on it. Luha tugged her shirt up, exposing her tummy so she could cover her face with the fabric.
At least the fires revealed the mop of red hair she was looking forward. K'luha shuffled forward from the shadows of the fire, barely exposing her sorry form to the light. Her eyes strayed to her grandmother for a moment, before reaffixing to K'ile with purpose. For once in the last few weeks, her form seemed strengthened with purpose. It invigorated her form, livened her face, and brightened her eyes.
"K'ile..." K'luha called out softly, her voice muffled by the fabric. Her eyes narrowed somewhat at Xha'li for a moment. "Are you trying to kill us with all that salt? Smells like K'yohko's cooking, Azyema..." Luha mumbled quietly to herself before limping forward again, closing what distance she could between herself and the Tia. "K'ile, we need to talk... " her eyes darted from Xha'li to K'deiki, and then once more back to K'ile. "Privately."
K'yohko watched the fabric wave shut, closing out the noise and thicken smell of cooking meat. He would not admit it to himself, much less another, but his body ached for the food that would eaten. Whatever portions of food he could give to others during the famine, he had given. It would be pleasurable to finally allow himself to eat to satisfaction.
Like K'yohko, his tent was plain and quiet. There was nothing there that was unneeded, or unused. A bed roll, two blankets, a change of clothing, a collection of herbs and soapweed, and of course his weapons. Everything was neatly tucked away, nothing even an inch out of place. The Nuhn gave a brief nod to K'zhumi and motioned for her to set next to him. He reached over to his arm and gently untied what small bandaging was left about it.
At least the fires revealed the mop of red hair she was looking forward. K'luha shuffled forward from the shadows of the fire, barely exposing her sorry form to the light. Her eyes strayed to her grandmother for a moment, before reaffixing to K'ile with purpose. For once in the last few weeks, her form seemed strengthened with purpose. It invigorated her form, livened her face, and brightened her eyes.
"K'ile..." K'luha called out softly, her voice muffled by the fabric. Her eyes narrowed somewhat at Xha'li for a moment. "Are you trying to kill us with all that salt? Smells like K'yohko's cooking, Azyema..." Luha mumbled quietly to herself before limping forward again, closing what distance she could between herself and the Tia. "K'ile, we need to talk... " her eyes darted from Xha'li to K'deiki, and then once more back to K'ile. "Privately."
K'yohko watched the fabric wave shut, closing out the noise and thicken smell of cooking meat. He would not admit it to himself, much less another, but his body ached for the food that would eaten. Whatever portions of food he could give to others during the famine, he had given. It would be pleasurable to finally allow himself to eat to satisfaction.
Like K'yohko, his tent was plain and quiet. There was nothing there that was unneeded, or unused. A bed roll, two blankets, a change of clothing, a collection of herbs and soapweed, and of course his weapons. Everything was neatly tucked away, nothing even an inch out of place. The Nuhn gave a brief nod to K'zhumi and motioned for her to set next to him. He reached over to his arm and gently untied what small bandaging was left about it.
![[Image: urVhoNf.png]](http://i.imgur.com/urVhoNf.png)
