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Description
As he pulled himself over the edge he looked around for Elika and saw nothing. The gritty sand on the top of the building was disturbed but he was unable to see footprints or even that Elika had come this way. The Prince spun around trying to catch any hint of moment. There was a sound of a single footstep and before the Prince could react he saw a painful flash of light and then this world went dark.
_

When the Prince opened his eyes he was simultaneously blinded and made acutely aware of a splitting headache. He rolled instinctively and shielded his face from the overwhelming light only to find the ground he was laying on scorching hot. He sat up abruptly to escape the heat, pressing a palm against his forehead to ease the spike of pain behind his eyes. Under his skin across his eyebrow and to the side of his eye he could also feel the heat and swell of a good sized bruise and gingerly tapped it to gauge its size.
"Damn, she hit me pretty hard…" he murmured to himself. Looking around, the Prince realized with venom that it was well into the morning. Meaning Elika was long gone. He growled and got to his feet, looking around at the rooftop he'd been left on. It was a little degrading to know that a single hit from the princess had incapacitated him. And even though he knew damn well that she was a powerful, magical wielding princess, gifted by the gods and classically trained by fighting evil; his chaffed ego stung like a sunburn.
Dropping easily from the hot roof into the dusty alleyway he made for the well of the oasis, jaw set firmly. The Prince took stock of shops on his brisk trip, calculating supplies he would need and were the best places seemed to be to get them. After being jostled for the umpteenth time in the street and thwarting the third attempt at being pick-pocketed, he acknowledged that the small village seemed busier today. Though it might not be odd for business to fluctuate at an oasis like this, there seemed to be something different about the passersby.
Many of the figures that packed the streets were obviously not merchants and their clothes were far too well kept to drifters or travelers like himself. There were children too, tucked close to their parents and siblings, who stared at the merchants and shops and travelers with wide eyes. There was something about the strange travelers that the Prince could not ignore. They were nervous and skittish, more so than normal travelers. The Prince counted three arguments as they broke out between the touchy strangers and the locals, and all in the space of time it took him to reach the oasis well.
The Prince drank his fill and splashed cool water over his face, noting absently the clusters of newly arrived families. Refreshed as he could be, the Prince wound the ends of scarf to cover most of his face and hurried to find the horse trader from the day before. He found the small man talking travelers into quick sales, and generally reveling in the sudden influx of customers. When the Prince approached the trader actively avoided his gaze and pretended not to notice him, though the Prince did not have the patience to deal gently with him today. The moment he was close enough the Prince roughly turned the small man, his fingers gripping his thick arm meaningfully.
"Where did she go?" his voice was a growl and though it made the trader swallow nervously he quickly steeled his face and sneered at the Prince.
"I don't know what you are talking about and I don't have time for this. If you are not here to buy, as I suspect you are not, then please leave, I have customers to attend to." He attempted to move away but the Prince only tightened his fingers.
"She left early this morning and I know she must have bought an animal yesterday or today. That means you are either lying to me or useless. Now which is it?" This had certainly had not been his morning and the horse trader seemed to suddenly become aware of this fact, his face falling into a nervous frown. The Prince's gauntlet clacked close to the man's neck and the sword at his hip made a sudden clatter of its own, which may or may not have been an accident.
"I…I don't know where she went! She bought from another trader so I don't know which way she went but if you seek the woman I remember then she bought a camel early this morning, soon after the strange travelers began to arrive from the desert. Please… I told you all I know!" the Prince searched the man's face, his blue eyes chilling the trader even in the oppressive heat. He growled, low in his throat, but reluctantly pulled his hand away. The horse trader was about ready to piss himself right there and the Prince could tell he was telling all the truth he could. The Prince turned without another world and disappeared in the crowd, leaving the frightened man stuttering in the sun.
He passed through the town collecting supplies as quickly as possible, ignoring any strange looks he got, and if people seemed to move out of the way of his icy glare the Prince didn't bother to notice. He made it back to the inn where he had left Farah the day before to find the same old man watching over the stables. The supplies and equipment he had left behind was exactly as he had placed them and the donkey seemed as rested as possible. He tacked the creature without a word, loading the additional supplies and made to leave while the stable keeper was busy cleaning, throwing a handful of gold onto the cushion the man had been resting on the day before. He had no idea where Elika had gone but he would be damned if that was going to stop him from searching every city surrounding the oasis until he found some word of her.
"Young man wait!" the Prince hesitated against his will as the old man shuffled out of one of the stalls.
"Thank you for taking care of my donkey, I left the fee for the stall and the feed on your cushion."
"Your thanks is not necessary, but that is unimportant. Where are you heading with so many supplies?"
"I am heading to the cities in the west, old man, and I have to go now, I am in a hurry." The old man shuffled closer halting the Prince's escape again.
"You can't! Avoid the west, young man! The travelers who arrived today came from the west and they say that a great cloud of evil has settled there. They say city of Menid'Teis has been completely destroyed." The Prince Paused and turned to look the old man in the eye.
"Menid'Teis? Have all these people fled from that city?" It would certainly explain their strange dress and behavior, thought the Prince. The city of Menid'Teis was farther west than the Prince had been in this part of the desert, and though he had heard many stories about it and its people he had deliberately avoided it for his own reasons. The people of Menid'Teis were rumored to be a strong and courageous people, their ancestors having dared to settle on a wall of jagged peaks that bordered the sea. Their gamble had paid off as they soon found the mountains to be full of minerals and the land quite fertile. Something truly frightening or terrible must have happened to push the Teis people from such a prosperous city, the Prince thought and felt a spark of excitement that he knew he should not have felt.
"Yes, and many more are coming from the surrounding cities. You must swear to avoid the western cities!" the old stable keeper seemed to shiver at the thought.
"Thank you for the information. You've aided me greatly old man." The old man made a noise as if he had more say but the Prince was already moving away. The rumors of the corruption moving west were seemingly confirmed and focused on a single city. He had no doubt that Elika had heard the news and was riding towards Menid'Teis even now. The Prince made his way through the throngs of people, pushing and shoving as he moved towards the edge of the village, and he felt his usual swagger and confidence seep back into wounded ego. Though he had never passed the gates of this particular city, he had traveled the deserts here often enough and knew the way as surely as a man could. And it was with that thought in mind that he ignored the strange looks he received as headed into the shifting sands alone but for Farah.
After nearly two full days of perfect traveling weather the Prince supposed he deserved the skin-peeling sandstorm that whipped up suddenly out of the south. The air had been hot and not even Farah had smelled it coming. Of course he hardly considered it comeuppance of any kind as he had already decided to rest for the night in the most perfect natural desert shelter he had kept a secret thus far.
Almost indistinguishable from any other low crop of rock, a single great slab of stone had been snapped in two some time in the past leaving two ramp-like flakes and a crevice in the sand. It was dangerous, travelers knew, to get too close to holes like that in the desert; many were death traps with precarious edges a moment from collapse. This scar in the earth was different, and despite the potential for danger, the Prince had been well rewarded for his recklessness and curiosity.
The deep crevice descended more than three men deep at the lowest point and was more than double that in length. At the widest point at the bottom, the hole was nearly twice a man's height though at the top it was only half that. With the stone flakes around the lip of the gouge blowing sands passed easily over the hole and the lengthwise orientation hardly ever aligned with the wind, keeping the space deep and clean. But the most important and remarkable feature of the hole was the small fresh water spring that seeped from between the cracks in one of the rock walls. The water formed a cool clear pool in the deepest part of the ground that was one quarter the size of the crevice bottom and deep enough to swim in. Which was exactly why the Prince had marked this oasis and was exactly why he had decided to rest there now.
Farah, who had been so desensitized to the Prince's antics that she could hardly be considered a donkey at all, had followed the man easily into the narrow awkward cavern without so much as batting an eye. After a long drink the donkey had settled down, burdens removed, to have a good sleep and to ignore the strange man splashing around in the desert puddle. The Prince hadn't washed or taken a proper bath in a good long time and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to enjoy a cool, clean private bath after traveling almost nonstop for days. He had washed his clothes in as manly a way as he could muster before leaving everything, lucky red and blue scarf included, on the beach to dry.
With his leathers and linen left on the hot sands the Prince moved into the cool spring pool. Even where his clothes generally kept his skin out of the sun the pale tan lines across his hips, over his shoulders, the tops of his feet and most of left hand and forearm were only a shade lighter than the rest of his deeply tan skin. The planes of his body were highlighted by a number of long-healed scars. A trio of long pale lines that striped down from his right shoulder suggested someone foolish might have taken a whip to the Prince several years ago, and a single long smooth stroke a breath away from the space between his ribs was a failed attempt by a temple guard, or a young bride-to-be's father, he couldn't remember. There was a splatter of tiny scars on his right forearm from his battle with Ahriman but life experience told him they would soon fade.
The Prince dunked his head under the waist deep water and scrubbed the sand from his rough brown hair. He washed the sweat and work from his body and relaxed in the desert puddle. As he stared up into the darkening and featureless sky, floating calmly on the small surface of the water, the Prince felt his mind wander and so almost missed the movement of a small shadow by the precipice of the hidden oasis. He blinked as the shadow suddenly became a clear shape and as he tried to make out the form it lurched over the edge. The Prince dove ungracefully out of the way as a mass of humanlike limbs and faded red cloth crashed into the water, casting waves up the sand and startling Farah to her feet.
When he surfaced, the Prince whistled loudly at Farah to call her attention back to him because the gods knew he wasn't in the position to chase the beast into another sandstorm. In a moment she settled, standing still but wary, and the Prince turned to the deepest center of the oasis. The red cloth floated to the surface and the Prince waded to the mass, groping for something solid. When his hand met with, what he guesses was, an arm he grabbed tightly and hauled the body upward. It was a person, he realized instantly, and as he threw his arm around the trunk of the prone figure it became obvious they were also female.
If it weren't for the water, the Prince decided as he sloshed toward the sand, the girl would have been fairly light and easy to carry if what he could guess of her size was anything to judge by. He laid the figure down as nicely as he could onto the sand and quickly decided that if she hadn't smashed her head on the floor of the shallow basin she was going to strangle in the mess of red fabric that clung tightly, saturated with water, to her face, neck and body. It took him a moment to find the end of the material, tucked under the free arm he had grabbed, and he quickly unwound the girl from the killing scarf. The person was quickly revealed to be, in face, a woman perhaps the same age as Elika.
A long tail of black hair stuck to the back of her long neck and the side of her well-tanned face. Two-toned, dip-dyed fabric clung lightly to her skin, turquoise at the bottoms of her mid-calf pants and the hem and sleeves of her wide collared shirt, turning to clean white with gold embroidery at her pant-waist and deep collar. A black sash-belt hung to the side of her hips. She might have tried to hide the fact that she was obviously wealthy under the worn and faded red wrap but without it the Prince quickly noted the flash of golden earrings and a gold collar necklace made up of many small glittering disks. She had no bangles or makeup but he suspected she had a least a few gold bracelets and sick of kohl hidden somewhere on her. There was just a touch of sunburn on her smooth cheekbones and forehead and her lips were cracked, suggesting she hadn't had a good drink or shelter in quite a while. The strangest thing, though, was her left hand and arm, past her elbow and half way to her shoulder, was securely bandaged.
The Prince had just slapped the side of the girls face gently when she suddenly came alive coughing and gasping. The Prince rolled her on her side gently so she could expel the water from her lungs and throat. The moment the woman got a deep breath into her lungs she rolled back over grasping weakly for the Prince's arm, feverish gold and amber eyes searching for his, and her tongue licked unconsciously at a remaining drop of water by her lips. The woman's mouth suddenly moved frantically and though only as throaty rasp could be heard the woman's condition conveyed her meaning obviously enough.
The Prince pulled away and shuffled through the pile of supplies he had unpacked from Farah, searching for the recently replenished water skin. He twisted around and slid back to the half conscious woman's side and had hardly opened the container when the woman snatched it away. She chugged the water so quickly she lost half of it down her face and gasped for air only when she on the verge of drowning again. The Prince admitted to himself that he was mildly impressed that she didn't choke herself, and remained quiet, noticing too that the woman's left arm seemed functional and painless despite the tight fresh bandages.
When she had nearly emptied the skin, the strange woman let the container drop from her hands as she gasped to regain her breath. After a long moment of near silence she turned and looked at the Prince, as if only just realizing he was there, the fog gone from her vision. He didn't move and just stared firmly back with impassive icy eyes. The woman easily met his stare with her own strange eyes, taking in the scar over his eye and all the features of his attractive face. She took in his dark hair as it stuck to his face and neck, the scars that patterned his smooth skin and his barely-there somewhat awkward tan lines. Her gaze flicked back up to his eyes and she promptly slumped backward into the warm sands, unconscious.

Description
As he pulled himself over the edge he looked around for Elika and saw nothing. The gritty sand on the top of the building was disturbed but he was unable to see footprints or even that Elika had come this way. The Prince spun around trying to catch any hint of moment. There was a sound of a single footstep and before the Prince could react he saw a painful flash of light and then this world went dark.
_

When the Prince opened his eyes he was simultaneously blinded and made acutely aware of a splitting headache. He rolled instinctively and shielded his face from the overwhelming light only to find the ground he was laying on scorching hot. He sat up abruptly to escape the heat, pressing a palm against his forehead to ease the spike of pain behind his eyes. Under his skin across his eyebrow and to the side of his eye he could also feel the heat and swell of a good sized bruise and gingerly tapped it to gauge its size.
"Damn, she hit me pretty hard…" he murmured to himself. Looking around, the Prince realized with venom that it was well into the morning. Meaning Elika was long gone. He growled and got to his feet, looking around at the rooftop he'd been left on. It was a little degrading to know that a single hit from the princess had incapacitated him. And even though he knew damn well that she was a powerful, magical wielding princess, gifted by the gods and classically trained by fighting evil; his chaffed ego stung like a sunburn.
Dropping easily from the hot roof into the dusty alleyway he made for the well of the oasis, jaw set firmly. The Prince took stock of shops on his brisk trip, calculating supplies he would need and were the best places seemed to be to get them. After being jostled for the umpteenth time in the street and thwarting the third attempt at being pick-pocketed, he acknowledged that the small village seemed busier today. Though it might not be odd for business to fluctuate at an oasis like this, there seemed to be something different about the passersby.
Many of the figures that packed the streets were obviously not merchants and their clothes were far too well kept to drifters or travelers like himself. There were children too, tucked close to their parents and siblings, who stared at the merchants and shops and travelers with wide eyes. There was something about the strange travelers that the Prince could not ignore. They were nervous and skittish, more so than normal travelers. The Prince counted three arguments as they broke out between the touchy strangers and the locals, and all in the space of time it took him to reach the oasis well.
The Prince drank his fill and splashed cool water over his face, noting absently the clusters of newly arrived families. Refreshed as he could be, the Prince wound the ends of scarf to cover most of his face and hurried to find the horse trader from the day before. He found the small man talking travelers into quick sales, and generally reveling in the sudden influx of customers. When the Prince approached the trader actively avoided his gaze and pretended not to notice him, though the Prince did not have the patience to deal gently with him today. The moment he was close enough the Prince roughly turned the small man, his fingers gripping his thick arm meaningfully.
"Where did she go?" his voice was a growl and though it made the trader swallow nervously he quickly steeled his face and sneered at the Prince.
"I don't know what you are talking about and I don't have time for this. If you are not here to buy, as I suspect you are not, then please leave, I have customers to attend to." He attempted to move away but the Prince only tightened his fingers.
"She left early this morning and I know she must have bought an animal yesterday or today. That means you are either lying to me or useless. Now which is it?" This had certainly had not been his morning and the horse trader seemed to suddenly become aware of this fact, his face falling into a nervous frown. The Prince's gauntlet clacked close to the man's neck and the sword at his hip made a sudden clatter of its own, which may or may not have been an accident.
"I…I don't know where she went! She bought from another trader so I don't know which way she went but if you seek the woman I remember then she bought a camel early this morning, soon after the strange travelers began to arrive from the desert. Please… I told you all I know!" the Prince searched the man's face, his blue eyes chilling the trader even in the oppressive heat. He growled, low in his throat, but reluctantly pulled his hand away. The horse trader was about ready to piss himself right there and the Prince could tell he was telling all the truth he could. The Prince turned without another world and disappeared in the crowd, leaving the frightened man stuttering in the sun.
He passed through the town collecting supplies as quickly as possible, ignoring any strange looks he got, and if people seemed to move out of the way of his icy glare the Prince didn't bother to notice. He made it back to the inn where he had left Farah the day before to find the same old man watching over the stables. The supplies and equipment he had left behind was exactly as he had placed them and the donkey seemed as rested as possible. He tacked the creature without a word, loading the additional supplies and made to leave while the stable keeper was busy cleaning, throwing a handful of gold onto the cushion the man had been resting on the day before. He had no idea where Elika had gone but he would be damned if that was going to stop him from searching every city surrounding the oasis until he found some word of her.
"Young man wait!" the Prince hesitated against his will as the old man shuffled out of one of the stalls.
"Thank you for taking care of my donkey, I left the fee for the stall and the feed on your cushion."
"Your thanks is not necessary, but that is unimportant. Where are you heading with so many supplies?"
"I am heading to the cities in the west, old man, and I have to go now, I am in a hurry." The old man shuffled closer halting the Prince's escape again.
"You can't! Avoid the west, young man! The travelers who arrived today came from the west and they say that a great cloud of evil has settled there. They say city of Menid'Teis has been completely destroyed." The Prince Paused and turned to look the old man in the eye.
"Menid'Teis? Have all these people fled from that city?" It would certainly explain their strange dress and behavior, thought the Prince. The city of Menid'Teis was farther west than the Prince had been in this part of the desert, and though he had heard many stories about it and its people he had deliberately avoided it for his own reasons. The people of Menid'Teis were rumored to be a strong and courageous people, their ancestors having dared to settle on a wall of jagged peaks that bordered the sea. Their gamble had paid off as they soon found the mountains to be full of minerals and the land quite fertile. Something truly frightening or terrible must have happened to push the Teis people from such a prosperous city, the Prince thought and felt a spark of excitement that he knew he should not have felt.
"Yes, and many more are coming from the surrounding cities. You must swear to avoid the western cities!" the old stable keeper seemed to shiver at the thought.
"Thank you for the information. You've aided me greatly old man." The old man made a noise as if he had more say but the Prince was already moving away. The rumors of the corruption moving west were seemingly confirmed and focused on a single city. He had no doubt that Elika had heard the news and was riding towards Menid'Teis even now. The Prince made his way through the throngs of people, pushing and shoving as he moved towards the edge of the village, and he felt his usual swagger and confidence seep back into wounded ego. Though he had never passed the gates of this particular city, he had traveled the deserts here often enough and knew the way as surely as a man could. And it was with that thought in mind that he ignored the strange looks he received as headed into the shifting sands alone but for Farah.
After nearly two full days of perfect traveling weather the Prince supposed he deserved the skin-peeling sandstorm that whipped up suddenly out of the south. The air had been hot and not even Farah had smelled it coming. Of course he hardly considered it comeuppance of any kind as he had already decided to rest for the night in the most perfect natural desert shelter he had kept a secret thus far.
Almost indistinguishable from any other low crop of rock, a single great slab of stone had been snapped in two some time in the past leaving two ramp-like flakes and a crevice in the sand. It was dangerous, travelers knew, to get too close to holes like that in the desert; many were death traps with precarious edges a moment from collapse. This scar in the earth was different, and despite the potential for danger, the Prince had been well rewarded for his recklessness and curiosity.
The deep crevice descended more than three men deep at the lowest point and was more than double that in length. At the widest point at the bottom, the hole was nearly twice a man's height though at the top it was only half that. With the stone flakes around the lip of the gouge blowing sands passed easily over the hole and the lengthwise orientation hardly ever aligned with the wind, keeping the space deep and clean. But the most important and remarkable feature of the hole was the small fresh water spring that seeped from between the cracks in one of the rock walls. The water formed a cool clear pool in the deepest part of the ground that was one quarter the size of the crevice bottom and deep enough to swim in. Which was exactly why the Prince had marked this oasis and was exactly why he had decided to rest there now.
Farah, who had been so desensitized to the Prince's antics that she could hardly be considered a donkey at all, had followed the man easily into the narrow awkward cavern without so much as batting an eye. After a long drink the donkey had settled down, burdens removed, to have a good sleep and to ignore the strange man splashing around in the desert puddle. The Prince hadn't washed or taken a proper bath in a good long time and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to enjoy a cool, clean private bath after traveling almost nonstop for days. He had washed his clothes in as manly a way as he could muster before leaving everything, lucky red and blue scarf included, on the beach to dry.
With his leathers and linen left on the hot sands the Prince moved into the cool spring pool. Even where his clothes generally kept his skin out of the sun the pale tan lines across his hips, over his shoulders, the tops of his feet and most of left hand and forearm were only a shade lighter than the rest of his deeply tan skin. The planes of his body were highlighted by a number of long-healed scars. A trio of long pale lines that striped down from his right shoulder suggested someone foolish might have taken a whip to the Prince several years ago, and a single long smooth stroke a breath away from the space between his ribs was a failed attempt by a temple guard, or a young bride-to-be's father, he couldn't remember. There was a splatter of tiny scars on his right forearm from his battle with Ahriman but life experience told him they would soon fade.
The Prince dunked his head under the waist deep water and scrubbed the sand from his rough brown hair. He washed the sweat and work from his body and relaxed in the desert puddle. As he stared up into the darkening and featureless sky, floating calmly on the small surface of the water, the Prince felt his mind wander and so almost missed the movement of a small shadow by the precipice of the hidden oasis. He blinked as the shadow suddenly became a clear shape and as he tried to make out the form it lurched over the edge. The Prince dove ungracefully out of the way as a mass of humanlike limbs and faded red cloth crashed into the water, casting waves up the sand and startling Farah to her feet.
When he surfaced, the Prince whistled loudly at Farah to call her attention back to him because the gods knew he wasn't in the position to chase the beast into another sandstorm. In a moment she settled, standing still but wary, and the Prince turned to the deepest center of the oasis. The red cloth floated to the surface and the Prince waded to the mass, groping for something solid. When his hand met with, what he guesses was, an arm he grabbed tightly and hauled the body upward. It was a person, he realized instantly, and as he threw his arm around the trunk of the prone figure it became obvious they were also female.
If it weren't for the water, the Prince decided as he sloshed toward the sand, the girl would have been fairly light and easy to carry if what he could guess of her size was anything to judge by. He laid the figure down as nicely as he could onto the sand and quickly decided that if she hadn't smashed her head on the floor of the shallow basin she was going to strangle in the mess of red fabric that clung tightly, saturated with water, to her face, neck and body. It took him a moment to find the end of the material, tucked under the free arm he had grabbed, and he quickly unwound the girl from the killing scarf. The person was quickly revealed to be, in face, a woman perhaps the same age as Elika.
A long tail of black hair stuck to the back of her long neck and the side of her well-tanned face. Two-toned, dip-dyed fabric clung lightly to her skin, turquoise at the bottoms of her mid-calf pants and the hem and sleeves of her wide collared shirt, turning to clean white with gold embroidery at her pant-waist and deep collar. A black sash-belt hung to the side of her hips. She might have tried to hide the fact that she was obviously wealthy under the worn and faded red wrap but without it the Prince quickly noted the flash of golden earrings and a gold collar necklace made up of many small glittering disks. She had no bangles or makeup but he suspected she had a least a few gold bracelets and sick of kohl hidden somewhere on her. There was just a touch of sunburn on her smooth cheekbones and forehead and her lips were cracked, suggesting she hadn't had a good drink or shelter in quite a while. The strangest thing, though, was her left hand and arm, past her elbow and half way to her shoulder, was securely bandaged.
The Prince had just slapped the side of the girls face gently when she suddenly came alive coughing and gasping. The Prince rolled her on her side gently so she could expel the water from her lungs and throat. The moment the woman got a deep breath into her lungs she rolled back over grasping weakly for the Prince's arm, feverish gold and amber eyes searching for his, and her tongue licked unconsciously at a remaining drop of water by her lips. The woman's mouth suddenly moved frantically and though only as throaty rasp could be heard the woman's condition conveyed her meaning obviously enough.
The Prince pulled away and shuffled through the pile of supplies he had unpacked from Farah, searching for the recently replenished water skin. He twisted around and slid back to the half conscious woman's side and had hardly opened the container when the woman snatched it away. She chugged the water so quickly she lost half of it down her face and gasped for air only when she on the verge of drowning again. The Prince admitted to himself that he was mildly impressed that she didn't choke herself, and remained quiet, noticing too that the woman's left arm seemed functional and painless despite the tight fresh bandages.
When she had nearly emptied the skin, the strange woman let the container drop from her hands as she gasped to regain her breath. After a long moment of near silence she turned and looked at the Prince, as if only just realizing he was there, the fog gone from her vision. He didn't move and just stared firmly back with impassive icy eyes. The woman easily met his stare with her own strange eyes, taking in the scar over his eye and all the features of his attractive face. She took in his dark hair as it stuck to his face and neck, the scars that patterned his smooth skin and his barely-there somewhat awkward tan lines. Her gaze flicked back up to his eyes and she promptly slumped backward into the warm sands, unconscious.