In another arena, Aunamee might have winked. He might have seen the fear in Howard's eyes and smiled bright and wide, posing as though in a class photograph. But today the sun is too bright and the weeks (months?) he lost poison him in their absence, weighing down his guts, thinning his breath. He doesn't see Howard's fear and he doesn't see Howard's face. He sees only the grass, its thin fibers sprinkled with the ghost-like shadows of his enemies.

And so he also runs.