"Our shaman mostly heals people," Messia started, and tapped her chin. Halla, the other female scout, still wearing her hood and cloth mask over her mouth, caught up to speak easier.
"I saw the human shaman once. Back before I wasn't in a hoof so they only let me have a bow. I've never seen our shaman shoot spikes of ice like he did," she said, and Yord shook his head.
"Is there a difference, though?" he said, and all the centaurs were quiet.
Was there?...
Dehak tried his best to be casual around her, but she seemed unnerved by nearly everything. Anyways, he motioned for her to come along and stepped outside. The chill of the approaching winter was already here and Dehak motioned to his saddlebags.
"I got extra furs, if you're cold. I don't know if it ever snowed in the desert," he said, a little honestly but but mostly as a joke. It really could've snowed there, for all he knew.
The rest of the Bloody Brays camp around them was clearly feeling the winter. It was clear that supplies were harsh and the climate even more so, and despite that it had been nearly a month since the last meaningful raids. The last of their captives had been set free and run off by now, so it was a quiet atmosphere where everyone worked towards what they had to do.
Young to old, everyone contributed to keeping the tribe fed and defended, and it gave the entire a place a desperate atmosphere, like the injured throes of a people burning as brightly as the can to try and avoid their looming decline.
"Come on, the targets are set up a little ways from camp, about a minute's run," he said, and got moving at a trot.
"I'm confident your brother can help us with the river. Getting that water flowing is going to do a lot of good round here," he said, and there was some genuine hope in his voice.
