That night at supper I slid onto a bench in the main mess tent, too frustrated to take my meal with the Riders. I didn't want to see any of them for another week. A Raechal woman sat next to me, her ears pinned back in displeasure, picking at the food on her plate.
Surprised at finding a Raechal who didn't launch into conversation the moment I appeared, I scooted a little closer. She came up to my shoulder, mostly because of her wild spikes of black hair - more a rumpled look than a purposeful one. She looked up and met my eyes with an implacable hazel gaze. I raised my eyebrows. She shrugged, the tips of her ears flipping briefly forward and then back again. "It's too loud. They don't like it."
"They," I said, shoving my spoon into a chunky broth.
"Mmhm." She reached back and dug in the collar of her shirt, her small hand coming out gripping a very small, very displeased lizard around the middle. As soon as she let go it scurried back into her shirt. She snorted.
"Oh," I said, and concentrated on my food.