Sleeping Dragon we always tear our Gods to bits and eat the bits we like

Bobby brought up the rear of the group as they traveled, mostly quiet along the way. He was glad that they were returning, not minding the relaxed pace they were taking. As they paused, he glanced to Thuringwethil, his gaze resting on the new scar on her shoulder. Part of him wished he had one. He almost felt like a failure, not having done all that his mother had in the war. Yes, he had fought, and yes he had given wounds as well as he got them. But, he did not get to take the life of an enemy. 

His gaze turned to Ephraim as he voiced his question, and Bobby finally looked at the lands around them. They looked scorched almost, and he could feel the subtle vibrations as they traveled through his paw pads. It unnerved him a little, and made him want to push the group to move past this point. But, instead, he remained quiet in the background.