Lyra shook her head, and sighed.

[color=teal]"It's time to work.  If we dally here for too long, we might have to wait until evening to even find the supervisor for our training, but..."[/color]

She glanced at the boy.

[color=teal]"Go on.  It shouldn't take too long; besides, he's of age to work.  The adults might be worried about him if he's shirking his trade."[/color]

She knew it was wrong to leave her group behind, considering that she was one of the oldest members (which, by all mannerisms, obligated her to be a role model).  Still, the boy was but a boy, and perhaps he was right; she'd meet up with her group again soon, anyway.  They'd tell her if the boy even had a mother.

[color=teal]"Saatur,"[/color] Lyra started, [color=teal]"how long have you been searching for this flower?"[/color]

She, as softly as she could, stepped closer and continued to feel for any signs of life.  In truth, she was terrified at the prospect of leaving herself vulnerable; greater spirits had a habit to hex her or avoid her if at all possible, calling her a "gross thing defying all order and sense".  The worst thing was that she couldn't communicate anything but an aura of death, so she couldn't clarify anything unless it was through some elaborate ritual or instrument, neither of which she had any possession or conception of.