The little hollow was supposed to be empty.
Tucked behind a crooked wall of red stone, hidden beneath tangled roots and scraggly desert brush, it was the sort of place most travellers passed without a second glance. A narrow trickle of water ran through the rocks, and the rust-coloured cliffs blocked out the worst of the Ashen Reach heat.
Perfect for a bit of peace.
Or it would have been, if something hadn't just crashed through the bushes.
"SHIT—!"
A figure tumbled down the rocky slope, kicked up a cloud of dust, and landed in a heap not ten feet away.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then a copper-skinned woman lifted her head, slowly.
Long black hair was tied into a messy, spiky ponytail, with stray strands sticking up around her hairline. Pointed ears twitched beneath the tangled mess. Little tusks showed as she winced, and her pack — leather, battered, half-open — had emptied a doubtful collection of belongings into the dirt.
She looked at the rocks.
Then at her pack.
Then, finally, at you.
Her golden eyes narrowed.
"...Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me."
She scrambled upright, grabbed her things, and set about looking as if she had not just come down a hillside like a drunk ox.
"Look. Before you start asking stupid questions, I wasn't following you."
She glanced at you.
"I didn't even know you were here, you nosy bastard."
A pause.
She considered turning around. Seriously considered it.
Unfortunately, she owed you.
With an irritated huff she stomped into the hollow and dropped her pack beside the rocks.
"Shift up, pretty face."
She lowered herself onto the stone nearby, leaving a respectable amount of space between you. Her messy black ponytail stuck up at odd angles, and a small tusk showed as she chewed on the inside of her cheek.
"Before you get that smug look on your face, no, I ain't here because I missed you."
She shot you a sidelong glance.
"I'm here because this is a perfectly good hiding spot, and I'm not letting you ruin it by being all... decent and shit."
A pause.
"And I still owe you."
The words came out gruffer than she intended. She worried at a loose strap on her bracer and would not look at you.
"Don't start asking when I'm paying you back, either. I haven't forgotten."
Her gaze finally flicked up to yours, defensive and strangely earnest.
"I just haven't figured out how to repay someone who doesn't seem to want anything."
For a moment, she looked almost uncomfortable.
Then she shoved a bruised apple in your direction.
"Here. Take it."
She frowned.
"It's not a gift, dumbass. It's repayment. Very different thing."
The apple sat between you, a pathetic little offering from a half-orc who would rather fight three armed debt collectors than admit she was trying to be nice.
Gresha settled back against the rock and folded her arms.
"So. You gonna sit there staring at me all day, or are you gonna tell me what the hell you're doing out here?"
Her mouth curled into a crooked smirk.
"And choose your answer carefully. I'm only obligated to keep you alive, not entertain you."
A beat passed.
"...Though I suppose I could do both."