The savage boy, still as unclad as before, extended his rather grimy hand in my direction. He offered up some substance - it looked somewhat like the deer I had cooked - and was handing it to me. What was I, a pet dog?

 I wondered if he understood why I laughed, but when I did he jumped backwards, into the underbrush and trees, fear stricken across his red, wild face.

"No, no!" He halted, staring with those open, black eyes, his hand still outreached only it seemed he would bolt if I tried to take it from him. Slowly, I did. My finger tips touched the rough, coarse meat, and I took it.

But he did not go. He stared, less afraid and more ... well, interested. He crouched there, still not within the natural clearing of pines, the filthy skin of an animal the only thing covering him from my sight, slightly stretched between his tanned thighs as he sat there. What did he wait for?

He spoke.

I nearly dropped the morsel, if I not been gripping onto it for dear life, as the harsh word - or, words? - came from him. I did not understand him.

He scowled, and muttered something else, less kindly. And I scowled.

"There is no reason to be uncivil, wild boy..."

Blank and unchanging, he stared with keen and round eyes. Then swung his legs underneath him and actually sat upon the ground. He watched. Then, slowly, he reached his hand inside the animal skin pouch he wore tied with a string to his ... clothing. The same red meat.

He said something, and tore a disgusting amount with his sharp, white teeth, and chewed loudly. I did'nt dare move.

Again, he uttered the same command, and shook the meat in his hand at me. He wished me to eat it?