The boy was all movement even when he was trying to stay still.
Once the immediate pressure at the entrance faded enough for breathing to become normal again, he sat with his back against the inner wall, knees up, injured arm pulled against his chest, and looked at each of them in fast little assessments that never quite stopped. He had the narrow build of someone who survived on speed more than strength, and there was too much life in his face for the Shore to have fully beaten it out of him yet.
Mara did not like him.
That was obvious at once.
Toma did not trust him.
That was also obvious.
Leon, for his own part, was trying to decide whether the sharpness in Pell's eyes came from fear, from habit, or from the kind of mind that started lying before it had even finished hearing the question.
Probably all three.
Mara kept the spear across her knees and said, "Start talking."
Pell gave her a quick look, then glanced toward the entrance as if checking whether the things outside had given up listening.
"You have a very friendly way of saying thank you," he whispered.
"You're inside," Mara said. "That's your thank you."
Pell considered that, then nodded once. "Fair."
His arm was bleeding more than it should have for the size of the cut. Not a huge wound, but badly placed, right above the elbow where every movement opened it a little. Toma noticed too.
"Let me see it," he said.
Pell drew the arm back at once. "I'm attached to it."
"Then let me keep you that way."
Pell hesitated.
Leon watched his face. He was weighing risk, but not the way an ordinary frightened person would. He wasn't just asking himself whether Toma meant well. He was also deciding what giving up the arm would mean socially. Who would be owed. Who would be allowed closer. Who would learn what from seeing the wound.
Interesting.
Toma held out a strip of cloth and kept his tone even. "You can bleed on yourself if you want. I'd rather not listen to it."
That did it.
Pell extended the arm with visible reluctance and let Toma pull him closer. The cut was longer than it had looked in the dark, clean-edged and fresh, with sand caught at one side.
"Stone did that?" Toma asked.
Pell nodded too fast. "Loose edge when I slipped."
Leon looked at the wound, then at the torn fabric around the elbow.
No.
The cloth had been cut first, then the skin. Not carefully, but not by rockfall either. A slice, then a tear.
Mara saw it too. "Who had the knife?"
Pell's eyes flicked to her and away. "What?"
"That isn't a fall."
He opened his mouth, closed it again, then said, "I said maybe my side. I didn't say only a fall."
"That's not an answer."
"It's more honest than my first one."
That, at least, was true.
Toma finished the binding with quick, firm hands and tied it off. Pell winced hard enough to show his teeth but stayed quiet through the pain. When it was done, he flexed his fingers once and looked at the cloth like it had personally insulted him.
"Thanks," he muttered.
The word seemed to cost him something.
Leon filed that away.
Mara said, "Now talk properly."
Pell leaned his head back against the wall and exhaled once through his nose.
"I came up from the lower shelves," he said. "Found this place near dusk. Didn't stay because I heard movement below and I'm not stupid. Kept moving, got turned around in the dark, found a better hiding spot, lost the better hiding spot, and then something decided I looked edible."
"Something?" Mara asked.
"More than one something."
Toma said, "How many?"
"I counted three shell crawlers, then stopped counting because counting stopped helping."
Leon watched him while he spoke.
Fast answers. Some true. Some polished in motion. The useful thing about Pell was that his lies weren't made to dominate a room. They were made to survive one. That made them easier to track.
"Why were you near the lower shelves to begin with?" Leon asked.
Pell looked at him and said, "Because I enjoy terrible decisions."
"Not enough."
Pell's expression changed slightly.
There it was. The first moment of real attention.
Leon went on in the same quiet tone. "The cut on your arm came from a blade before the tear. You didn't get that from stone. And if you'd only been running from shell crawlers, you would've said so cleanly from the start because monsters are easier to explain than people."
Silence followed.
Toma glanced at Leon.
Mara did not take her eyes off Pell.
Pell looked between them, then let out a small breath through his nose.
"You're annoying," he said to Leon.
"So I've been told."
Pell shifted against the wall and finally said, "I wasn't alone earlier."
Mara's face went colder. "How many?"
"Two others for a while. We found each other near a broken inlet before dark. One was hurt, one was loud, both were stupid in different ways."
"And?"
"One of them tried to take my knife while we were moving. I objected. The loud one made it louder. Then things in the rocks heard us. We split."
Toma said, "Did they live?"
Pell looked at the entrance for a second too long.