Quite A Meeting

The thick forest near Curt. Curt.

"May the gods lay there tenders eyes on me."

Kira muttered as gently and low as he could. Not really because anyone was close to him, but the fear of the unseen had made a confetti of his grit. He wasn't who he used to be. To be in the wild alone. To walk the wild alone as though he was some slave let loose.

Of course there was usually a difference. A difference between being a slave and a warrior. A warrior served the function of the king and save his face. The slaves wash his face.

Well, both, in one way or the other, have something to do with the face.

"Shall I?"

He breathed heavily, his breathing pace was been regulated by the fear swelling at the base of his consciousness.

He often looked back to be sure that he was steering clear of evil. He was more than jumpy but every part of his body was very much alive. Or say, feigned to be.