Siv asked the expected questions, which Gale did not know how to answer with skill that would lead her away from further questions about himself. He stared at the fire for a moment, knowing the pregnant pause was more than enough to condemn him. The fire crackled as he stared at it, though the flames gave him no enlightened solution. "No one, I fought for myself," he answered eventually, his words slow as he fought back the memories of men he had killed, the jeering faces of the spectators, and the cruel blows of his training masters. If they left scars, he would have them all across his back. Instead, they gave only bruises and broken bones to punish. Scars were won and worn proudly. The lion's scars were proof of that. "There were rings for fighting, in London." He did not like lying, it was against his nature. But he refused to risk being sent back to them, back to his hell.
The woman prepared the meat, and Gale saw her rub something on the meat. Herbs? Oh, what herbs there had to be here, that he had not yet tried yet. London had been a place of opportunities but for a poor family, there had been only a plot of land and hunting. Perhaps the woman would share some of her herbs with him. "Herbs?" he asked, his mood brightening slightly as he moved to join Yvette. "Would you be willing to part with a few samples?" He had nothing to part with but he wanted so badly to find a home. "This Kingdom of yours, what's it like," he asked further, hoping to switch the focus from himself.
Images credited to Jason Pier. Table style inspired by Kitty.
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