He reached for the proposed water: the bowl was dirty, maybe it was meant for a dog? However, he did not care, he lifted the mask from the bottom and pressed his lips to the cold, scalding water. Drinking was uncomfortable. His mouth was as broken as everything else, like legs and eyes. On the one hand, the lips did not move, and therefore icy water flowed on his chin, flowing under his clothes. Making the last sip, he strongly threw back his head and realized that she’d seen that. She saw the part of his face. His mandible is torn from the right side. He saw her eyes widen, she recoiled, apparently already regretting that she had given him water. And at this moment other people, men, appeared.
That's all he could say about them, they were lit by the last rays of the setting sun, and he could not see them. But there was no fear, nothing again.
“What happened?” – one of the men asked. He was breathing heavily, and a stick was squeezed in his hand.
“Here it is. He wanted water. I was afraid that he would pollute our well. Do you see the way he dressed? And I was right, under his mask there is some sort of tripe on his face. Maybe a leprosy or a plague! If only he did not turn out to be plagued!”
They recoiled from him, he understood everything, but for some reason did not feel the slightest desire to respond. Just tried to get up, but fell. And they bounced off him even further.
"Really sick!”
"I'm telling you! As soon as I saw him going to the well … Gods, Gods, for all goodness, protect us from the plague!”– the woman began to lament, sobbing. He really felt her fear.
"Hey, you! Get out of here! ”– the man swung his stick threateningly. Arel had a sword. Arel knew that a sword was fastened under his cloak behind his back, but he didn’t even try to get it, he didn’t even move.
And now this indifference, this desolation began to frighten him. It was necessary to act, but Nikto, in whose body he was, did nothing.
“He has white hair, see?!”
"Maybe half-breed?"
"Lost her mind! There is no such hair, he is probably gray … "
"And the half-breeds?"
"He is gray! Hey, old man, go to the temple and ask for alms there, but here you have no place!”
"But he does not look like an old man!"
"What shall we do?"
They huddled together, deliberating. He heard only fragments of their phrases: “Beggar? Old man? Maybe he fluent? Half-breed? Plague?