When S'tai returned to the outcrop, his huntng pouch had been replenished with the rich pickings of his kill. The musty, pleasant scent of its spilled innards persisted, coating the air. The Soer hadn't mustered the energy to run much further, and the herd, displaying none of the stubborn loyalty and honour the Jurii valued so highly, had abandoned it to fall to the dirt, the yellow blood now blemishing his fingers trickling from its fatally wounded neck. This was, of course, relative to the incredible stamina these creatures possessed. It always struck S'tai how an animal could appear so bizarre and ungainly, with its disproportionate features and muscles that jutted out along towards the bottom of its hooves, and yet move with such astonishing speed. Its unelegant size and thew, almost paradoxically, was what granted them the strength to trample a hunter who'd unwittingly come within striking distance, and streak away in tandem with their herd when danger arose. Upon skinning the beast, it was all the more evident. S'tai had never been squeamish, but the sight of bloodied arteries as he cut dirty yellow flesh from bone, taking extra care along the thighs where the meat was softer, would surely send a shiver down the spine of an onlooker that was unfamiliar with the process.

He'd also taken the precaution of cutting one of its tusks away; the extra weight pushed down heavily on his back. The huntress, though still donning the traditional garb of a Jurii warrior, had been stripped of all her weaponry.

The whole situation, in his eyes, was distinctly unusual, and it was instinctive for him to be wary of what he could not comprehend. After resolving to retrieve his catch before taking any further action, he'd shifted the woman over to the edge of the outcrop, leaning her back against the surface of the stone while she moaned and grunted unintelligibly. Always the same name, over and over and over. Idrae. The name was one of the most common in Jurii culture- the sun, it meant. It was used for men and women alike, but considering the ringlet of stone pierced through her left ear, indicating to him she'd already found her Siseuf, S'tai thought it likely to belong to a hunter.

He'd been surprised upon discovery of the ringlet. The Jurii's mating ritual was permanent, and not one to be taken likely: the penalty for adultery, for the breaking of their sacred vow of bonding upon the Baasei's name, was execution via quartering. Siseufs did everything together; they joined each other's hunting patrols, ate and drank together, danced in worship by the fires together. The connection required between both needed to be unyielding. As strong and intense as the sun's wondrous beams. Many hunters and huntresses, after completion of their K'uve, laid with each other, but it was rare for someone so young to undergo the ritual. Typically, it was considered the final trophy of an older, more distinguished member of the tribe, and a symbol to their tribe-mates they thought it time for personal ascension to greater pastures of authority.

Even stranger were her ugly, noticeable wounds. As he kneeled down beside her frame, his eyes scanned over them, and once again he noted the lack of any true penetrative cut on her skin. If she were attacked by anyone knowledgable of the Jurii's killing techniques, as most outcasts and bandit hordes were, she would not have escaped with her life. Hunters threw their Uerao's for the vulnerable areas that woul only result in the death of their target. The neck. The heart. Perhaps the legs, if the intention was to prevent escape. The only injuries sustained around the latter were minor grazes. The kind one would receive if they were running from something or someone and, in the process, fell to the unflinching sand. The most potentially damaging writhed at the top of her right shoulder, where the skin, in a mess of puss and dried blood, appeared to have been scorched black. The only weapon capable of such damage he knew of were fire arrows, shot from bows only forged and granted to the Riuas. He thought it unlikely an Riau would turn on their own tribemate. If they had, she certainly wouldn't have lived to tell the tale.

'Idrae...'

He reached into his pouch, pushing aside the tusk until his fingers closed around his canteen, now also of a more of a satisfying weight due to his kill. The Soer's second stomach, located beneath its considerably larger counterpart, employed solely for the sparing and hopefully lasting retention of water like the Garhuo plants located north of the Jurii's territory, had contained more than enough for a full refill. S'tai didn't plan on wasting a single drop, but if the huntress was to survive for longer than a few more hours then she needed water, and quickly. She was already in a state of patent dehydration.

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Nonetheless, it wasn't a sense of happiness deriving from the kindness of his actions that had spurred him to return to the outcrop after this unlikely discovery. The ony way he could justify this somewhat uncharacteristic display of pity was the indoctrenated Jurii code of honour that still lingered, etched like a sand carving into the marrow of his bones. Even as the precious droplets of fluid escaped from the mouth of the vessel and splashed onto chapped red lips, the urge to withdraw and leave her to be consumed by the Baasei, fading like distant memories on the spiralling wind, adamantly refused to stop pestering him. Suvival was not a priviledge or a right. It was a gift, earnt with each stolen breath, each fleeting moment, each light footstep on the sand. For whatever reason, this Jurii huntress appeared to have been attacked or forsaken by her hunt-mates; it was not his place to intervene, as he, in turn, had been forsaken by her tribe. He shouldn't care. He was Jurii no longer. He was no longer bound by their foolish codes, or burdened by their faith in the ridiculous concept of the divine Baasei.

But he could not deny that he now bore a circumstancial responsibility for her. Their paths had crossed completely by chance, and the huntress would die if he did not take action. Obligation.

It crossed his mind how quickly she would've abandoned him if they're positions were reversed. Perhaps it was best that, to this notion, he turned a blind eye.

She moaned, providing S'tai with a distraction from his musings. He withdrew the canteen, unwilling to sacrifice any more, and lightly slapped her right cheek, hoping to revive her from her half-delirious state.

'Idrae...'

'S'tai asks if you can hear him?' he grunted questioningly.

No reply.

'S'tai wishes you to speak.'

'Idrae...'

He looked away, frustrated. His choice seemed to be becoming more regrettable, more apparently futile, by the second. Being fully aware how luck had decided he wasn't worth the time thus far, was expending needless time and effort on what could easily be a lost cause only tempting another show of its indifference towards him? He stood to gain nothing, unless you counted some indiscernible moral comfort as substantial, which S'tai certainly didn't. There was every chance this huntress wouldn't last another hour.

An hour passed. The huntress didn't pass on, and he didn't leave. He occupied the time by, despite his better judgement, granting her additional sips from his vessel. Upon closer inspection, he noted there was a lack of evidence in the area suggesting a large scuffle or fight. No other bodies. No other bloodtrails excluding the huntress' own, the majority of which had already been lost to the Baasei. He followed it round the outcrop, then watched disparagingly as a particularly strong gust of wind rushed past him at full pelt, effectively blowing away the few remaining footprints in the sand. The fight, if he was correct in assuming one had taken place, could only have transpired some distance away. The thought faded as he circled back round and saw, to his shock, a cough erupt from the huntress' throat. She was resting her arm against the rock, pulling herself up to a seating position.

He rushed to her side and knealt at her side. 'S'tai asks you not to move,' he said, again reaching for his water vessel.

She didn't reply, and didn't look up. The only sign that she'd heard him at all came when, with an almost petulant reluctance, she rested herself back down against the stone. He knew she'd be too weak to make any sudden movements, let alone get up to her feet, until her sunburn had died down and her wounds treated (or rather, treated as much as his limited medicinal knowledge would allow).

There was a moment of palpable tension. S'tai's muscles suddenly felt stiff, his nerves alert, his eyes darting back to the burn wounds on her shoulder. The scowl contorting her features told him they were just as uncomfortable as they looked.

'S'tai asks to know your name?'

'... Resuraa.'

S'tai was absolutely certain this wasn't her name. It had been silly for him to assume a Jurii would impart something as personal as their name at a moment's notice. And to an outlander at that. In truth, he shouldn't have done so either.

'S'tai asks where your hunt-mates are?' he ventured.

Instead of replying in the same rasping whisper as before, she reached out for the water vessel. He hesitated.

'One sip. No more.'

She did so, never granting him a clear view of her face. His pupils narrowed. The blatant show of disrespect was one he'd grown used to in his encounters with the Jurii tribe since his exile.

'S'tai will find some Fuere plants to dress your wounds in awhile,' he told her, getting back to his feet. 'There is a Soer corpse S'tai killed nearby. If you are hungry, S'tai will collect you some more food.'

He was used to silence in the Baasei, but on this occasion, it cut a little deeper than he'd be willing to admit.