Blacktail Deer Plateau And your soul turned black as the sun grows somber

If Peregrine could've read her thoughts, he would've (gently) rebuked her for kicking herself so much over this. He needed to know these things, even if they weren't pleasant. He would much rather know the ugly truth than buy into a beautiful lie. From his friends, he expected honesty, not coddling.

"Don't apologize, Willow," he said, "and don't ever tell me what you think I want to hear. Always keep it real with me, okay? Like I said, I appreciate your honesty." His lips pressed together as he considered her almost evasive answer, though he didn't press the matter. He nodded curtly. "You have a point," was all he said. Perhaps he would talk to Atticus, gather some details, or perhaps he would decide it didn't matter.

He paused, trying to think of anything else he'd like to hash out with Blue Willow. There was so much weighing on his mind and heart. He did feel better, having talked some if out with her. He supposed there was a certain threshold here, though, and beyond that, the only one who could give him true clarity and closure was Hawkeye herself.

"You are a good friend and a good listener," Peregrine told her. "I'm lucky to have you in my life, Willow."