[color=D6CC88]Oh Saints, oh Saints.  They'd seen her, and now they'd come and grab her like they had her parents and that would be it.  She'd never find her family, not when they figured out she was Magi and turned her over to the Hunters.  Wyth would defend her, but there was another big cat like him and--

Was she [i]okay?![/i]

What kind of silly question....

Oh.  The man thought Wyth was hurting her, maybe?  Sometimes Murans were scared of him, because he was big and strong.  But he'd never hurt her, not ever.  Amuné slowly sat up.  The man had put a bit of meat out -- probably for Wyth, but it would be the first real cooked food she'd had in far, far too long.  And lucky her, someone crashed into the man and distracted him and everyone else.

Well.  Almost everyone else.  One of the men was still watching her, hand still on his weapon, and he addressed her too.  She scooted away, not wanting to get close enough for him to hurt her.  He talked nice, but that didn't mean anything.  Only...he was a healer?

[i]Like Mommy.[/i]

Tears stung the girl's eyes, and she quickly blinked them back.  Healers didn't hurt people.  And he offered her food, too, more than just the strip of meat.  Maybe it would be okay to trust him, at least for a little.  Long enough to get her cuts seen to and to eat a decent meal.  She got to her feet and came over, still wary and tense but perhaps not quite so reluctant.

He was talkative.  Healers did that a lot, so their patients wouldn't worry.  Only it wasn't healercraft that scared her, it was people.  She wasn't sure she liked the sound of this game.  But he was helping, so she sort of owed him.  It took a long time to find her voice and give her name.  The only talking she'd done since running away was very quietly to Wyth, and once or twice when she prayed aloud instead of in her head.  It felt strange, like trying to put on a new shoe, or maybe one that was too small.

Then it was her turn.  But she couldn't think of anything worth asking.  Names seemed inconsequential, when all she wanted to do was get something to eat and get away.  Asking if she could trust them was just stupid.  If he said no that was fine, but it was people that said yet that were the problem.  She almost asked who'd taught him his craft, but just the thought was enough to make tears come again.  Amuné sniffled, hoping it'd look like she was crying because she'd gotten hurt and some of the treatment stung, and not because she was upset.

Presentation of food was a big mark in the healer's favor, and Amuné managed just barely not to grab the rations from him.  "Thank you," she whispered, sitting down next to Wyth to eat -- not the rations, which would last longer and so were stuffed in a pocket, but the strip of meat Wyth had picked up and very carefully not eaten himself.  He presented it to her as a barn cat might present a dead bird to a favored person -- or a father cat to a kitten.  She buried her face in his coarse fur for a moment, her free hand curling through to the smoother undercoat.  Just for a moment to steady herself, then she remembered the people and quickly put her back to Wyth so that they couldn't sneak up on her.  Not that she was paying them much mind.  She was ravenous, and tore into her meal more like a wild animal than a polite little girl.  It was gone far too quickly, but the weight of the travel rations in her pocket was a reassuring one, and she felt much less like her stomach was in danger of sticking to her spine.  That made her much more inclined to be charitable, even though she was still afraid.

[i]He was trying to help.  He's a healer, like Mommy.  ...I should be nicer.  Even if I am going to steal flint from him and the others.  But maybe I can make sure it isn't his.[/i]

Amuné got to her feet and made her way over to the man who'd helped her.  She reached out a hand to tug at his sleeve, but noticed that it was dirty and now greasy too, and quickly wiped it on her shirt for lack of anywhere better.  By then he'd seen her, and the weight of his grey eyes very nearly made her reconsider.  "I-I..."  Why hadn't she decided on what she wanted to say before going over?!  "Who taught you?"  The words tumbled out in a breathless rush with a strange hitch in the middle, but once she'd said them she couldn't take them back.  She took a step back towards Wyth, face scrunching in some unhappy emotion.  Maybe this was a bad idea after all.[/color]