Iniiq glanced up, drawing Mraan’s gaze to her own. She quickly looked down again self-consciously, brushing a strand of her jet black hair behind one ear, and continued with what she was doing.
‘May I help you with that?’ Mraan asked her, hoping to ameliorate the feeling that he and his father were imposing.
Without looking up, she said, ‘Help is not needed. Only time to cook. I am nearly finished.’
Mraan then asked a question about something that had been bothering him since their arrival.
‘How did you find us? Did you know we were coming?’
She picked up the cutting board and began brushing the cut herbs off of it and into the pot. In a matter-of-fact tone, she said, ‘Did not know, except that Enemy was coming.’ She put the board down, selected a long wooden spoon from a rack near the fire, and began stirring the contents of the pot. ‘It is assumed that when enemy comes in such numbers, that others must flee before them.’ She tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. ‘Is fortunate for you and your father that you have no hiding skills. It made finding you easy.’
Mraan smiled in return at her jibe, and sniffed the air. The aroma coming from the pot was beginning to make his mouth water. Then, he asked another question that had been causing him some unease.