Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [73]
Sauk watched as Lewan sat, still naked, at the water's edge and used a stone from the stream to crush the acorns and some of the leaves. He then dipped three fingers of his right hand into the greenish-brown concoction and painted a series of symbols on his forehead, the backs of his eyelids, across both lips, round his heart, and the patch of skin between his navel and groin. Sauk scowled and muttered, "Damned leaf-lovers."
Lewan then piled a small cushion of young larch needles at the base of the nearest tree, sat on it with his legs crossed and his hands on his knees, leaned his head back against the bole of the tree, closed his eyes-and didn't move for a long while. Sauk sometimes thought he could see the boy's lips moving, but he was too far away to be sure.
And there Lewan sat as the shadows in the wood turned a deeper shade of blue and the cool of evening began to whisper down the mountain. Although he couldn't see them through the trees, Sauk knew that the first stars were skirting the eastern horizon.
A jolt, almost like a muscle spasm, struck Sauk. But this was in his mind, in his heart of hearts, that deep part of his soul entwined with the tiger. Someone was approaching. And not from a distance. Someone was already well into the wood, within an easy stone's throw of the boy. How someone had gotten so close without Sauk-or especially Taaki-being aware of them, Sauk had no idea. It put his hackles up. Sauk sensed Taaki rising from her hiding place and stalking down the slope, keeping to the shadows under the trees.
No, Sauk told her. Easy. Let's see.
Sauk drew his knife and waited. The boy still hadn't moved. If he heard the figure approaching, he'd shown no sign of it.
Sauk saw movement before he could make out any features. Just a different shadow moving through a wood that was quickly dimming to the uniform shade of evening. The figure made no attempt at stealth and moved without haste. Lewan still hadn't moved, though he'd have heard the figure by now-unless he'd fallen asleep.
The figure made its way round the last of the trees. A man. Sauk could tell by the way the figure walked. But his features were completely hidden within the folds of a loose robe and a deep hood. In the gloom of the oncoming evening, the robe looked black.
The man stopped a few feet away from Lewan. The boy opened his eyes and started at the sight of the robed man standing near him. The man reached up with both hands and pulled down his hood. Sauk got his first good look at the man, and he felt all the blood drain from his face.
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Lewan had been aware of someone approaching for some time. Believing it to be Sauk, he paid it no mind, though he did note that he heard him coming quite clearly. Days ago, on the trek through the Shalhoond, Lewan had been surprised at how someone as large as Sauk could move with such grace through the woods. Perhaps Sauk was purposefully making noise to announce his return.
When the sound of footsteps stopped nearby, Lewan opened his eyes. He gasped and barely caught the scream in his throat, for it wasn't the half-orc after all, but someone wearing a dark robe and hood. Lewan could just make out a man's chin within the deep shadow under the hood.
"Forgive me," said the hooded man. His voice was deep and rich, but Lewan could hear the rasp of old age in its timbre. "I did not mean to startle you."
The stranger lowered his hood, and Lewan faced an old man. His thinning hair, mostly gray but with streaks of black, just dusted his shoulders. His skin was not as dark as Lewan's, bur it had the darker tone of someone from southern regions, and though he was wrinkled as worn leather, his eyes were bright and sharp.
"Wh-who are you?" said Lewan. The man did nor appear hostile, and Lewan's hammering heart was beginning to slow. Lewan leaned over, grabbed his trousers,