"Mebbe. Probably." Her voice was sing-song. She was curled up under the scant shade offered by an outcropping of rock above them. Typical Keeper, ready to curse Azeyma at the drop of a hat. Stupid sun, anyways.
"Why?" She dragged out the word, eyes flickering over to him with lazy interest.
"Why?" She dragged out the word, eyes flickering over to him with lazy interest.