He remembers the cliffs where he had been birthed - more to the point, he remembers their colour. They had been red, stained from the years of decay and death that plunged, fell or was thrown over the edge. The algae that grew across the rocks enhanced the red, making it brighter and lurid in a way that hadn’t been possible. This was his memory, but perhaps it was just how he remembered it through the impressionable mind of a child.
Exaggerating everything.
And he remembered returning to his Plateau, so long ago, and finding usurpers. It had been his and one day, he would return to die and let his bones bleach upon the mountain’s edge. That day would come, and he would stand upon the precipice one last time.
Today was not that day.
Today was the day to feel alive, and let the blood burn with the white-hot fire of adrenaline. His head drops, expression falling into an impassive mask.
“Lead the way, Anawar. It has been too long,” he says. He will follow him, and they will go and strike a match and take what they wanted.
“The Cove awaits us,” he says with a cold smile. He turns his head towards the island, knowing it lay in that direction. It was open, and all he knew how was this was the way. With the strength of his pallid stranger at his side, they would seek it and make their mark… that was what he wanted.
For now.