Merely a diurnal cycle prior, he was sharp enough to sow dread among his environs until the venom claimed him; even when envenomed, his aura screamed 'approach me not,' yet now, he gazed about with bewilderment, akin to a child seeking his mother amidst a throng.
"Hey, Mel, do you fare well?"
Sam was one file ahead of him; observing that he awaited the Kapo to turn his back to initiate the march, he was compelled to call out. When Mel turned to him, the gaze of an assassin had resettled within his eyes; it was as though his previous posture, aura, and demeanor had evaporated and vanished into the ether.
"Since you are all prepared, let the march commence!"
