— ☩ A soft, trilling sound cut through the air, sending Ingus’s body into alertness, half-lidded eyes now wide open and searching—
He had expected to be alone for the late afternoon, and was almost, almost successful in willing himself to give in to slumber, had it not been for...for whatever that had been. With a mental groan, he pushed himself off the grass, head nearly coming into contact with the cracked end of a broken vaulting.
Unconsciously, his fingers hovered over the hilt of his blade, steps measured and slow as he sidled across the cloister. It was then that he regained his senses, mind whirring back at its original pace, did he think that he was most likely not in danger. He knew what cues and whistles people often used to communicate, and that had definitely not been one. This was when a girl came into view—unassuming, garbed in a cloak of striking red, her back facing him—and he nearly let his hand fall to his side. The line of her shoulders had been relaxed, too relaxed, if not for the occasional shrugs she did. What had been interesting to note was how the sound he had heard always followed the shift of her body—
“You there,” he said, tone biting and uncharacteristically harsh. This raised a few red flags for him, the most concerning of them probing for the reason why a child was playing out here, and alone presumably. He pressed his back against the wall, head tilted to hear her response better. Feigning ignorance, he continued, “What are you doing?”
