Dragoncrest Cliffs anger is the more productive cousin of fear

Thur reached for him, and Artaax leaned into the touch in an effort to soak up as much comfort from it as he could. He took in a steadying breath as she stepped away and motioned for him to follow. His heart still pounded, but he nodded to confirm that he could and would follow. He moved at her shoulder as she lead him away from the borders, thankful for the growing space between himself and the scene of his crime. His triumph. And mostly, the sight of the stranger's blood soaking into the earth where he had been slain.