With a sudden movement that could only have been caused by a dyr, the earth around Citra shifted and sand rose up to cover the scrap heap. Muttering a quiet, vehement swear under her breath, the teenager quickly abandoned her mission and looked around for the cause, grabbing the hilt of the dagger on her thigh. The perpetrator revealed herself as she stepped around the pile of sand and junk, and as she recognized the woman with the tiny earth dyr, Citra narrowed her eyes. “What is your problem,” She asked, sidestepping the taunt altogether. “What do you want.”

Citra eyed the other woman as she approached but did nothing more than stand up all the way so that she wasn’t being towered over. With her hand still on the hilt of her dagger, the teenager noted that the two of them were of a similar size and looked for any sign of the dyr she knew had to be there. If push came to shove, Citra thought she could take the stranger in a straight out fight, but the elemental abilities always skewed the odds not in her favor.

Boredom, in Citra’s opinion, was not a valid excuse for ruining what could have been a meal. “Food is food,” She stated, an explanation in and of itself. Beggars couldn’t be choosers; in Elderkeep, they were all beggars, and none more than a girl too young for a dyr.

The question and the look that accompanied it had the teenager studying the young woman in turn. She had never been shown how to hunt, but she thought it was probably fairly similar to scavenging and stealing, which she did know how to do. Either way, she didn’t want to admit such ignorance to a stranger who had tried to get her into trouble the last time they’d met - not when hunting used the same weapons as fighting, and the ability to defend oneself was integral to survival. So instead, she answered the question with one of her own: “Why do you want to know?”

The offer of knowledge was a generous one, and the apparent altruism had Citra eyeing the stranger with suspicion. No one offered anything, much less useful information, for free. In a city where every resource was limited and in high demand, there was always a cost, always some invisible string attached to every kindness. Even though knowing how to hunt could only benefit her, the teenager's next words were no less defensive than before. "Why would you do that?" And, perhaps more pertinently, what did she want in return?

Citra was not overly familiar with apologies and explanations. None of the soldiers, let alone the Eldouir themselves, stopped to explain why they did anything nor did they ever apologize - they just did what they wanted because they could, because they were by far the strongest people in Elderkeep and no one could stop them. That this woman was offering both was enough to make Citra pause.

She spoke of trust as if it was something that hadn’t died a brutal death many years ago, and she spoke of an empathy and compassion that Citra had long since stopped expecting from strangers.

Citra did not deny the claim about her lack of a dyr, but her hand still rested on the dagger at her thigh. “It’s better that nothing changes.” After years of fending for herself, Citra knew Elderkeep. She knew its streets and how to identify its most threatening occupants and how to read the shifts in atmosphere as time wore on. She knew how to survive in this city as it was and as she was, and changing things would only threaten that delicate balance. Not to mention that any change would almost certainly be a negative one.

But hunting, for real, would unquestionably be a useful skill to learn. “If you teach me how to hunt,” She said after a moment. “What do you want in return.”

The other girl was right. Citra wouldn’t have believed her if she claimed to want nothing in return, but on the whole, cooking food and sharing a meal seemed doable. The prospect of entering the stranger’s wagon, however, had her hesitating; if she wanted to ambush Citra, isolating her in a place familiar to only one of them would be the perfect place to do so. Dark eyes studied the other girl. Physically, she wasn’t that much bigger than Citra, but her dyr made all the difference: a little rodent who could control earth could hurt the teenager before she even had a chance to fight back.

But then, they were isolated here, too, weren’t they? If the stranger wanted to hurt Citra, nothing was stopping her from doing so now. It wasn’t like anyone would care. She decided to take a risk. “Okay,” Citra said, nodding once. “You show me how to hunt, and then I cook the catch and eat it with you.” A pause. “What do you hunt?”

Although the teenager couldn’t fathom why she only wanted to share a meal, the stranger seemed pleased that Citra had accepted the terms. With the necessary order of events - hunting and then cooking whatever they caught - if something went wrong or the woman went back on her word, then Citra could always leave early without having wasted anything more than time.

She listened and nodded her understanding at the explanation of the other person’s prey of choice. Then a hand was extended and two names were offered. Citra looked at the hand, looked at the girl, then over at the dyr. After a moment, she took the hand and introduced herself shortly, “Citra.” Another long pause before she offered up the second name she gave to anyone who asked about a dyr - and anyone who didn’t, too. “And Solus.” This one was accompanied by a pointed look. “He’s small and very shy.”

When Aydin glanced around, Citra watched her before casting a quick glance around at their surroundings. “I don’t have a bow.” And she knew very little about making one; her mother had been a fletcher, not a bow-maker. “How much wood do we need?”