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

Oh, he understood just fine. He, too, burned with the desire to pillage and burn, to set the sound ablaze and turn the shore crimson. And if he were as young and angry as Ephraim, he would do it without hesitation.

But that fire of youth had faded, if only slightly, with the seasons. He was approaching his fourth year, a child no longer. Despite his enduring playfulness, his jocularity, he still had learned some things along the way.

It's a suicide mission, Vercingetorix said, shaking his head. We either go to their turf and get our asses handed to us, or we find a way to bring them here again--and what would you propose we do, there? Kidnap someone else? One of the kids? If you thought they were angry before, you bet your ass they'd be at our throats. We wouldn't escape without someone dying.

He stared over at Ephraim, his face grave. We wait. We grow strong, and we lay low. Doing nothing isn't weakness, it's smart. It took me a long time to learn that, and I still have trouble, honestly. But retaliation is what they want, and I'll be damned if we give them what they fucking want. Fuck that noise.