Cha felt instant regret at showing off the batons magic. He should have known better. The Duhjari didn't have access to the amount of magic or magic items that most large countries did. Their simple way of life, even among those with more magic, paled in comparison to the Serenian and Adelan mages.
        "The magic came from the baton," Cha explained. "It was enchanted by a wizard in Serendipity. As long as you know the key words anyone can use the power. I can show you more things another time. I doubt you would have anything worth trading for my magic items. Maybe a metal weapon though."

        "The scar was much worse and larger before our cleric healed it," Cha told Jayari. "We had thirty mercenaries to fight the dragon and her welp. We also poisoned a goat and set it out as bait. Once she ate it she was weakened." Cha walked over and picked up the baton as he continued to speak, "we followed her back to her nest and fought her there. We only lost one man." Cha swung the baton experimentally twirled it in his hand and then spoke a peculiar word. "Dumahi!" A dark red fire wreathed the bat and Cha spun it as he moved in a martial dance. After a few quick movements he spoke again, extinguishing the flame. "Nelona!" He placed it back in its spot and turned to Jayari. "I don't think there is a price you could pay for such a thing."

        "That's unfortunate," Cha replied. "I killed a red dragon welp and its mother. Not an Adelan dragon mind you, but it was still quite fierce." He turned to show her his left shoulder blade. There was a burn scar that had been healed partially by magic with a tattoo of a slain red dragon and its baby. "She terrorized a town and my band was hired to kill her." He pointed to a red club in his rack of weapons lined with bright white dragons teeth. "I used the welp's teeth and horn to make a dragon garland baton."

        "You dealt with a dragon," Cha asked perking up. "What color? Did it have a rider? Do you have the dragon? I can make good things from dragon parts."

        "I'll take the hares and give you three buck skins if you give your word you'll bring back plants that can be kept for long periods of time," Cha told Jayari. "Anything extra you bring I will trade you for then."

        "Milk and cheese are things I want. I do not need them. What I need are vegetables, roots, herbs, fruit if you have it." Now that he was interested in trade Cha was less cold, but he still didn't seem enthusiastic. He was more business like, less grumpy hermit. "My food gets me by and I've staved off scurvy, but I could use more variety and nutrition."

        "So, what? You're going to give me three hares that I don't need for what exactly?" He crossed to his dry chest opening it and pointing in. "Perfectly good skins that I can make into clothes and blankets? Bones and antlers that I can make weapons or other things out of?" He next opened the barrel next to the chest. "Dried meats that I can keep over months to eat when hunting is scarce?" He then opened a much smaller chest that let out a cold fog. "Fresh meat and fish that I can cook and enjoy with fresh roots and other plants?" He hesitated there for a moment. "The only thing I'm ever really short on is edible plants." He thought for a moment, "I could also use new braise. Do you have linen or plants like bear grass that I can make cloth from?" Now that he was thinking about wants and not needs, "what about cheese? If not cheese, milk to make it from?"

        "I don't need anything but what I gather myself. I hunt and trap and I have a well." Cha pointed to the lid covering his well in the corner. "I provide for myself."

        Cha narrowed his eyes at Jayari. "You didn't come back for your knife. You want to trade. I don't need your meat, I have more meat than I need." He turned to walk back to the spot he was exercising at. "You can leave now. And you have no reason to return again."

        Cha stopped his sit-ups and did a backward somersault to stand. He moved to the low table where he grabbed a linen rag and began patting himself dry. He tucked it into his wasteland and reached for the knife. He didn't intentionally delay answering Jayari, he simply didn't realize he wasn't answering. His thoughts were not present in the moment, instead checking boxes on tasks complete for the day, rearranging others due to this somewhat expected intrusion. He flipped the blade over in his hand as he walked to his guest, handing her the handle first. At this time her words finally made it into his brain and he answered her.
        "It was dire badger sett."

        "No," was all he said in response. Cha was not going to shout whole sentences when he was in the middle of calisthenics. He continued his sit ups. Breathing heavy with the continued exertion. He had the mushrooms uncovered to light the front room and a gentle glow from a small fire could be seen through the open curtain to the back room. Even though the earth was cold and outside was cold, within his cave, it was decently warm. For this reason Cha wore only his linen braies as he exercised. Most of his tattoos were on full display, as were many of the scars across his body. In his short twenty-six years, Cha had seen much.

        Cha had taken a few hours to get back to normal. Then he remembered the knife that he'd made Jayari drop and he'd then pushed away. He went to fetch it and set it on the low table he used to eat at. There it sat for the next days, until he heard the woman call down to him from above. He'd had a feeling she might return for the blade. An obsidian knife of such fine craftsmanship would be valuable to anyone, let alone a nomadic people like the Duhjari. It was set into a nice wooden grip and wrapped with leather. Luckily it had not chipped when he'd pushed it aside.
        He paused in his workout to call back up to her. "I'm here." He said simply. Then, "I have your knife. Come down." He was not inclined to dress so he could crawl up the tunnel just to return the blade.

        Cha let out a deep sigh after Jayari left, relaxing the tension in his body. That could have been worse. He noticed the cut on her face and had thought to offer salve, but he just wanted her gone as soon as possible. He was exhausted, not from using his telekinesis, from having to maintain his humanity. It had been so long since he interacted with another living soul. All he had these days were the ghosts of his friends and family to keep him company. Not in the literal sense, thankfully, but it might as well have been, for the insanity his loneliness was driving him toward was just as bleak. He had already forgotten her face, but not the tattoos, not the stern look in her eyes. Those were too much like his mother for him to forget. He sat in his cave, he refused to think of this as his home. His home had died with his band.
        He couldn't regain his calm. Cha was agitated for no reason other than Jayari had made him think of those he lost, especially his mother. He came to the Plains to be near his mothers origin. She had never really known the plains herself, but she told stories from her mother fondly. She got this wistful look in her eye, like remembering a pleasant dream. She ran away from Essyrn and her planned out life there to chase love and adventure. Cha had had enough of adventuring, and love only brought pain. He let out primal shout of pure anger. Channeling his sadness into anger kept it at bay. Releasing the anger explosively helped him get control again.
        The mercenary turned hermit threw off the thoughts, pushed down the emotions, and returned to his cold emotionless self. His motions were automatic as he moved to the back room where he processed the three hares he'd wrapped up in his bundle. He was relieved to be back where he kept all the animals he processed. Back where he could be numb. Back where he could deny his loneliness. Back where he was slowly driving himself insane.

        Cha had spoken the word in Serenian. He thought on languages Jayari may have encountered. To convey understanding he could have used one of the Adelan tribal tongues of those that traded with the Duhjari, but he could not think of one. There was no 'Adelan' word for the term, and the Adelans had adopted the Serenian word also. So he was instead forced to explain like to a child.
        "At its simplest," Cha explained, "a mercenary is a warrior that fights other people's battles for payment." He moved away from Jayari and kneeled in his action ready pose again. "But mercenary can be much more complicated. There are as many varying kinds as there are different plants, animals, and tribes on the plain. My parents and I myself were part of a band that was loyal to each other with a bond stronger than tribe or family. We fought for coin or supplies, but we upheld our honor and morals. We did not fight for cruel or evil men." He paused, his thoughts growing somber. "They are all dead now, I am the last." Another moment of hesitation and Cha stood, returning his sword to its sheath, and dismissing Jayari with a wave of his hand and a single word.
        "Go."

        Cha made a face of bored irritation, turning away he tapped the flat of his sword against his thigh. "No herd. My mother was half Duhjari, half Esserni." He went back into the chest and pulled out a buck skin and a wolf pelt. He returned to Jayari and put them in front of her. "I was born and raised in a mercenary band."

        "I want to be clear," Cha said. "I don't want to see you around here. I don't need you drawing attention to me. I'm out here to avoid people, not deal with nomads picking fights with me over a single rabbit." He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He should have known better than to take the hare, but it had been dead for a while and he didn't know how soon the trapper would be back. "I liked this hill better when there was nobody else placing traps near it."
        He scrutinized his... not-prisoner? She had similar chin lines to his mother. His own chin tattoos that his mother had given him, weren't too dissimilar either. He didn't know much about the individual Duhjari tribes, but he knew about them in general. His mother was half Duhjari after all. She was also half Esserni, and left her parents behind at young age to chase after his mercenary father. Theirs was a strange love story. This was not the time to let his thoughts wander to fonder times. He looked at his guests clothes and her brightly decorated braids. He reached up then, pulling away the scarf that covered his face. His own facial tattoos were now on display. A large Y like shape in dark red on his chin, given when he made his first kill, and a white diamond between his eyes, like you might see on a horse.
        "My mother had tattoos similar to yours," Cha said to the woman. He let out a sigh. "I'll trade you for the hare. Stay." He moved to a chest near a curtained passage. He opened it and fished inside pulling out the dried hides of three hares, and a small antler knife, finely crafted by his own hand. He then walked to the woman and offered her the goods. "I'm Cha'Druku. What should I call you?"

        Hereward barely paid attention to anything going on. He was committed and he was hungry, so he watched the food and drink approach. His tongue snatched out to grab a piece into his mouth, his eyes still turning in opposite directions to watch people in the room. His small hands grabbed at his drink and he guzzled the weak alcohol with abandon. After a final slurp he smiled a wide toothy alligator grin, sharp teeth included. He then started to quickly and with great precision eat his food using two knives to cut and stab small bits into his mouth. When his plate was quickly cleared, he agreed with the Connlaothian, but in a delicate whisper, "yes, the food is good." Then with a bit more volume he asked, "More?"

        Cha could see her logic, but he also didn't want to have to fight her if she decided to be an idiot. Which was likely with how she followed a stranger down a long tunnel in the dark. She obviously had poor impulse control. He tossed the rope onto the bundle and moved toward the rack that held his sword. The ornate hilt consisted of a black crossguard reminiscent of spread dragon wings, the pommel the head of a black dragon with emeralds set in the eyes, while the grip was wrapped in a black leather. When Cha pulled the blade from its sheath, the silver metal emitted a gentle glow. A trophy from some Adelan fool that insulted his band and then challenged Cha to a duel, the sword was made of real argentite. He could likely retire off the sale of the sword, but what use was money to a man living like a hermit. An unbreakable blade that never lost its edge was much more valuable.
        Moving to where his captive would be at the edge of his powers range, about two meters, Cha knelt in a combat ready pose, his sword held at his side. Then he released his hold on the woman and gave her a single word command.
        "Sit."
       

        "Holding you like that will tire me out eventually and I'm not in the mood for the splitting headache I'll have tomorrow." He began unwinding the cord, creating looping cuffs to put around the duhjari woman's wrists. "My hope is to have an agreeable conversation where you prove amenable, and I can send you on your way never to bother me again." Cha parroted her words back at her, "we can make this easy or difficult, your choice."

        Cha knew threatening the horse would elicit a response, and it worked even better than he had hoped. As the knife moved into his range he pushed it further away. Then he stepped forward and pushed the horsewoman against the wall. Held there with a thought he pulled a rope from his bundle he'd left on the floor. "I'm going to bind you now, and then we can have a chat."