Greatwater Lake each morning I get up, I die a little

His stomach sank lower and lower as Murdock spoke, telling his own story of despair, of death. Chemukh. The babes. He had said their names once before, and Shale had not pursued the subject. Now, his older brother had freely given the tale--and his eyes belied the neutral tone with which he spoke.

"After Lucy died, I wandered aimlessly for moons. I feasted on rotting carcasses. I barely slept; when I did, my dreams were unspeakable and horrific." Shale shook his head, looking down. "I lost all hope, then. I'm not sure if I'll ever get it back."

Despite himself, and every other touch he had given his brother in the past, Shale opted for something more gentle and sympathetic as he placed the top of his head against Mur's shoulder, butting it softly before retreating. "I'm sorry, Mur. I'm so sorry that it happened to you, too."