The tribesman guiding Gideon around the area walked silently, his footsteps barely making a sound on the ground. The only noises in the night were crickets chirping and the faint rustling of leaves, specifically the ones sewn into a strange flap he wore around his lower half.
Gideon's attention was entirely on the swaying leaves. "Isn't that itchy?" he muttered under his breath. But one glance at the tiger's teeth strung around the man's ankle convinced him it wasn't his business to question.
"Wibba-wibba pee pee," the man suddenly said, stopping in his tracks. He pointed to himself, then in the direction of the tribe.
Gideon tilted his head, then followed the man's gesture. Suddenly, he understood. He chuckled and pointed to himself. "Gideon. Gideon Stromrider. From Everdale," he said, gesturing toward himself and then back in the opposite direction.
The tribesman blinked, then pointed to himself again. "Wibba-wibba."
