The girl that had attacked Rene and had nearly been struck in retaliation was as filthy as she was terrified. Instead of being covered in the phosphorescent algae that clung to the soldier and diplomat, which gave the pair an ethereal glow, she was caked in sand and salt left behind by evaporating sea water. Her lips were cracked and chapped from what Solae speculated was mild dehydration as there was no fresh water readily available on the beach. A long thick braid was ragged and half undone by the merciless wind, her hair plastered to her face and shoulders, and painfully tangled. The child's clothing was also ripped in several places and threadbare even where it had been left largely intact. Haggard, scared, and hungry, she was a shadow of the lively and healthy adolescent she must have been a week prior before the hurricane struck and left her stranded on this deserted island. It was nearly impossible for the linguist to conjure an image of what the girl might look like smiling and nourished.

As traumatized as she clearly was, Rene looked equally horrified at what might have occurred if he had not been stopped from swinging downward. Were his more petite companion launching a counter strike then the damage would be minimal if not negligible. Fortunately for him and unfortunately for his adversaries he had the benefit of combat training, years training and toiling to build muscle on a body already genetically disposed to tone more quickly, and swift reflexes undoubtedly also owing to certain scientific interventions of his ancestors. He could have killed her. The realization must have struck Rene the instant he dropped his arm for he fell mute and looked vaguely ill. His empathy in the face of adversity and concentrated efforts by his superiors to foster indifference made Solae love him that much more fiercely. Another marine might have shrugged and justified his instincts by rationalizing it was provoked- if they tried to excuse their actions at all. Had Rene slain an innocent he may have never forgiven himself even if it was purely accidental.

"Are you hurt?" she asked the girl gently. It was difficult to discern age but the girl was clearly pre-pubescent. If she was forced to make an estimation she would wager the young female was approximately nine or ten years old. The youth had backed several steps away from both of them and glanced back and forth with obvious skepticism. Solae was trying to keep her from bolting though even if she did there was not much danger in her flight- the adults were faster sprinters and there was no escaping the island without the aid of a boat of some sort.

After a moment's hesitation the girl shook her head vigorously to indicate no, she was not injured. Relief washed over the woman's features and she allowed herself a brief smile at her paramour for reassurance. Because he might be shaken she wanted him to be calmed by the knowledge no real harm had been done.

"I'm Solae and this is Rene," she introduced slowly. Using false identities might have been the more responsible course of action, considering there was a bounty on her head and they should be cautious about broadcasting Rene's survival, but she wouldn't sink so low as to lie to a vulnerable child. Even in war she had her scruples. "What's your name?"

Again the girl gave pause. She had not retreated farther but was obviously unsettled more by Rene's stature and weapon than she was of Solae. With the latter she stared unabashedly at the unusual hair color, which was glimmering like pale spun gold, that was so captivating. More than anything it told the child that these two did not belong because no one on Panopontus. None she knew had their colouring of skin or their angular facial features, much such a delicate hair hue. "Damaris," she whispered finally. If they were stranded because of the typhoon it might make them trustworthy. Every once in a while there were vacationers that wanted to see the exotic "world of water."

"That is a lovely name," Solae complimented with a soft smile as she knelt down in the wet sand. This made her shorter than the juvenile and hopefully less intimidating. Most of her professional life had been dealing with narcissistic officials and pompous government employees, so she was slightly out of her depth when it came to juveniles, though she thought she was making a good first impression given the circumstances.

"How long have you been out here, Damaris?" she asked gently.

"The storm carried me here," was the only response. Now that she had said a few words- rather than just one- it was clear she spoke with a different dialect than they personally utilized. There were no errors with her syntax or vernacular, but the enunciation was halted and syllable emphasis not quite correct, which was indicative of the fact this was probably not her first language. Solae could try to tease out of the girl what her first spoken language was but only once they were no longer exposed to the elements and any passing ships.

"Are you hungry and thirsty? If you promise not to try to hit my friend Rene again we can take you to our... shelter," she improvised. It was a huge risk to take but they couldn't have helpless Damaris wasting away on the outer edges of the caldera. Anything less than sharing in their rations would be unconscionable.