[b]"...So, this friend, yes? Takes his three goats, runs through the side of the caravan and he's gone! We don't hear from him for nearly a week!"[/b] He told the old woman, free hand gesturing abstractly. The afflicted look on her face made it clear she wasn't interested in hearing his story. [b]"He comes back on a Tuesday with [i]one goat[/i], and he tells us he lost the--"[/b]

The woman was saved from it by a young, pleasant-looking man in what seemed to be his late teens or early twenties, and she spared him a grateful glance before hurriedly picking up the rest of her spilled stock while the nine-year-old was distracted.

Saghira turned around and craned his neck up to meet the gaze of whoever had interrupted him, and one-over'd the older boy. Green eyes that wouldn't meet his own, but seemed gentler than most to Saghira--his energy was an odd mix of nervous and friendly, and he didn't know what to make of that. And his blood was cleaner than his own; he could smell it. He never knew what to make of that either, especially when his betters initiated the interaction first. And [i]amiable [/i]interaction? This was a first. But he was offering help, and Saghira wasn't about to turn it down.

He pulled his lips back in a sharp-toothed grin, and chirped, [b]"If you want, sure! My name is Saghira, and this is--oh..."[/b] When he turned around, the woman and her baskets of produce were gone. 

x [@King Tai]