Redhawk Caldera I don’t miss my little golden age

Of course, he was hoping that Sassafras would bring him good news, some explanation for Lasher's absence that would untie the twisted, gnarled knot forming in the center of his chest. Deep down, though, Peregrine knew exactly what was coming. So when the would-be messenger delivered the news, his jade eyes bored into her face for a beat or two, then slowly drifted to the ground before closing. He felt a poignant wave of pain wash through him, chased after by a bittersweet sense of gratitude. At least they'd mended their friendship beforehand.

But knowing that Taltos was gone—had likely suffered too, before dying—naturally hit him like a punch in the gut. They'd made so many memories over the years, good and bad. Now they wouldn't make any more. They would never embrace again, a thought which made Peregrine's insides ache terribly. He wanted to sit down and weep, though he stiffened his lip because he didn't want to lose it in front of Sassafras.

"Fuck," he breathed after a long moment, acknowledging the information. "How was she? Deirdre?" he added a little distractedly. She had been worried about her father and he'd basically brushed her off. Yes, he'd been trying to reassure her at the time and he'd thought nothing of any of it. But she had been right and now her father was dead. And her mother had likely never returned. Peregrine had only met her once but she had saved his life, so he felt his throbbing heart go out to her.