It showed clearly in his eyes. It's a strange phenomenon, the fear I see sometimes in people's eyes, in their faces, in the way a man keeps his finger just a hair closer to the trigger of his autogun when I approach. In the way their discussions grow faintly quieter and slow for just an instant as I pass by. The way a man's posture changes slowly while I speak to him, his body vaguely shifting away on the side of his dominant hand, that foot casually digging into the dirt, ready to lunge, to strike me, or to draw a weapon.
They work harder, too. They drink less, fight harder, sleep less and make a show of waking quickly as though with great preparedness. Their weapons are always clean and maintained and fully loaded, their boots are always fastened tight, their helms buckled securely. The bone-eaters on Dusk are like this. I always saw them act differently around others of their kind, particularly the males. They had a way of partially dislocating all the joints in their body, giving the illusion of standing taller, having a longer stride, having longer arms and claws. They took longer, deeper breaths, their chests swelling outward as they did so. When one challenged another for any reason, the victor would invariably make a show of consuming the loser. Often, the then-wounded victor, weighed down by his "meal" would be attacked by another rival. Mating was a far greater oddity, though... But, I digress.
If being afraid of me kept my comrades sharp, then I'm glad for it. It worked for my tribe, it will work here, even if the object of fear for those men was in their midst.