Emerson's back was to her as he finished the man, standing up and brushing the dirt from his hands, straightening his shirt before looking over his shoulder at her. "Are you hurt?" he asked. His voice was smooth, like velvet, but his eyes were cold and harsh and they studied her intensely as he returned to her.
He frowned, looking like he was already disappointed in her. "Why would you ever come into these woods alone?" he asked harshly. "Whose clan do you belong to?"
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. His mouth tightened and he tilted his head. "I just saved your life," he said sharply. "The least you could do is answer the question."
"Selective mute, goes by Rory. You're far away from your home," he said thoughtfully, sounding like he was more talking to himself. "What are you doing here? Without a guide?"
He took it from her, inspecting it severely. "You're a poor fighter, though," he said curiously. "Why are you all the way out here and scavenging?"
He let her take it back, but considered her still. He had a scar across his bottom lip, and he squinted at her for a moment. "You need to get back home," he said eventually. "Let Garcia know that you shouldn't be allowed to do this by yourself. It's not safe."
