Deepwood Weald the only ring i want buried with me are the ones around my eyes

Guilt flashes through him at the emotion in Midar's features, and he finds himself looking anywhere but at him as he speaks. He doesn't know how to answer the question; it's never been a relevant decision to him until now, so he has no conclusion readily available. He doesn't know if he wants to be married any more than he knows if he wants to go jet skiing in Dubai. Midar, I — He swallows, suddenly feeling as if the air has left his lungs. He can't make a decision now, not with Midar here and looking at him like that. He pulls away, rising abruptly and moving for the entrance of the den. I need to think. He mumbles over his shoulder as he flees, ears burning with guilt and shame as he forces himself out into the winter storm. He just needs some time away; time to think.