It is hot. Normally this is a statement that Mateo associates with lazy Longheat days out in the Celestine, or strolls along the beaches of Torchline at the height of midday. But out in Hak Etme, the Furnace puts thos examples to shame, and the boy is shading his eyes as they trudge across the hardpacked ground, a sweltering breeze sending sand tickling across his arms and face.
He's getting a little gangly these days, a growth spurt that speaks of a surge of hormones on the horizon. For now, though, he's merely got one t-shirt on his back and another wrapped around his head, both of them having been dragged from the bag of holding slung across his chest. "Cosa stiamo cercando, papà?" he wonders, wiping sweat from his brow and wishing that Remi had a shadow he could walk in.
He's getting a little gangly these days, a growth spurt that speaks of a surge of hormones on the horizon. For now, though, he's merely got one t-shirt on his back and another wrapped around his head, both of them having been dragged from the bag of holding slung across his chest. "Cosa stiamo cercando, papà?" he wonders, wiping sweat from his brow and wishing that Remi had a shadow he could walk in.
