Kire hadn’t expected an oasis, but then she’d already learned to let go of expectations by now. Still shivering a little from walking through that darkness again. She watched him, making sure he was alright, and also a little bit relieved at the reprieve from hearing him berate her. Kire sighed; for now, it seemed she could rest easy. She unclasped her helmet, ran her fingers through her short, cropped hair, a bit conscious of it now after seeing the uneven blonde mess on top of his head. 

She left him to his silence for a while, drinking from her wateskin and refilling it afterward, then likewise washing her face, both to clean it and to refresh her from the dizziness of her portal use. Afterwards, she cleaned her helmet, then sat down to rest under a palm tree, eyes closed. [i]Gods, fresh air.[/i] None of the reek of blood magic, or rot and carnage, or the killing aura of the hunters’ magic. Only her own, and her testy companion’s. She rubbed her left eye gingerly, wondering if—no, when—the hunters would send more of their own to look for them. 

“You’re free to try to kill me now,” she said after a long silence, leaning back against the tree, glancing at him. She had some hope that this ordeal would get him to loosen his tongue, though she didn’t particularly optimistic. “What are they? What do you call them?”