He didn't trust her, or put much stock into her words. She was many many years old, but that did not make her the best. No one outside of famine would ever be able to earn the intrinsic trust that came with his clan, the way they communicated subvocally, the clicks and gestures and chiming of bells that added to their language.
But, still, brother was here, and Lurks trusted brother first and foremost, after the Mother. Home was nothing to him, but family wasn't. He did not mind collecting things, and so he shook a skull as if it were an instrument, some dirt and loose bone rattling around inside of it.
"Brother!" he squeaked, rushing to show him the pointless trinket, "it makes
sound. Was it a people once?"