Dragoncrest Cliffs We can bow 'cause our music's warmer than blood

Oh. He didn't know. Ephraim's heart slowly sank as Vercingetorix gave voice to his confusion, and then clattered roughly into the bottom of his breast when the Cheka asked the million dollar question. Who did you attack? There was the simple answer ("I attacked Easy"), the not-so-simple answer ("but I didn't mean to") and the complicated answer ("I thought she was someone else"), and none of them convincingly modified the simple answer into something favourable in a soldier's eyes.

So for a time Ephraim kept his lips tightly pursed and willed the burn of shame to leave his eyes lest it turn outright to tears. He wouldn't blame the Cheka for turning him away from the pack for this. It was within his right to do so in order to enforce the safety of their clan. In the heat of the battle, he hadn't stopped to think that his superiors might have been too busy to witness what he'd done, and since then, Ephraim had simply assumed they knew.

But he let the cat out of the bag, so now he had to fess up. Easy. It was an accident, he breathed, his voice higher and tighter than he would like it to be, I couldn't recognize anyone anymore and I thought she was an enemy and I just went for her. He drooped his tail down between his legs and turned his face away, unwilling to see the disappointment he thought was inevitable in Vercingetorix's eyes.