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Not everyone deals with waiting in the same way.
Howa, for example, seems perfectly at ease with waiting. As you approach the clearing, you spot her straight away. She sits with her good leg folded neatly under her, her prosthetic lying straight out from her body. She leans back, resting against the trunk of a thick, healthy tree and lets the sunlight fall down upon her face. Just looking at her, you feel a rare sense of peace.
Koa, on the other hand, takes to waiting like a caged animal. The grass around his side of the clearing is bent, trampled and broken by his pacing. Now, he sits at the foot of a tree, one just as thick as the one Howa leans up against, and whittles away with a small knife. Slivers of wood litter the ground around him, a testimony to his nervous carving.
Then you clear your throat, announcing your arrival. Koa turns and gives you a lazy wave. Howa, though, she stands to meet you so fast that she almost falls over, with only a hasty grab for the tree keeping her upright.
Maybe she wasn't so calm after all.