[Red eyes aren't taken off his 'brother' until he's bent down at the water's edge. He scrubs a small amount of the grime off his hands before cupping them and drinking just enough to stave the thirst off.

The water is real enough. He splashes it over his face a few times. His actions remain careful, deliberate. Itachi has trained himself not to show weakness when it can be helped, and his limbs remain steady when they should have been shaking from a combination of exhaustion and relief.

Sasuke is taking advantage of the situation, though, and Itachi's head turns slowly, bangs still dripping, as the question is asked. He says nothing right away, eyes still searching the teen for anything that might shine some light on the situation.]

The woods. Away from the village. Two days after I left our quarter vacant and our clans' homes empty. On the new path I forged with my own hands, little brother.

[It's so much easier to strike fear into the heart of a seven year old.]