Sommar cocked his head and squinted. his eyes this time. “You don’t know how famous you are, do you?”
Sartin shrugged. He wasn’t famous, he was just Sartin of the Pod Belzer. “Where I come from, these scars are scorned for their cowardice and vanity.”
“You really don’t know…” Sommar’s voice trailed off as he touched each side of Sartin’s chest. Sommar explored Sartin’s dark skin and the darker scars on each side of the rib cage with his hands. Sartin flinched as Sommar’s warm fingers tickled his skin. Sommar’s forearms had coarse brown hair onthem, but other than that, the rest of his upper body was smooth like Sartin’s. He cringed again when Sommar’s right hand grazed his newest wound.
“Does it still hurt?” Sommar asked, looking up at him.
“No, I guess I just expected it to,” Sartin said. “What did you mean by, ‘I really don’t know?’”
“You’re already a legend in the mid-North where I am from. The scars are beautiful.”