Whitefish River this is how we heal:

His brows furrowed tight together as he glanced at her, frowning. He's still in there? he asked, a growl building in his throat. I thought he might have been able to be moved. I was with him, outside. . . He thought of his visits with his son, but cast the image aside -- it was too painful. Too painful to think about Dragomir, so broken.

His breath caught in his throat as Aure described the long road to recovery. This was on him. Drago lay shattered because of him. And it was on him to both right the wrong against his son, and to prevent it from happening again.

Right?

I'm going to find who did this, Vercingetorix vowed, his voice full of quiet venom. I'd say I'll kill them, but. . .no. No, I'll make them wish they were dead. I'll make them suffer, for a very long time. There were no qualms in saying this. As easy-going as he could be, there was a streak of cruelty in the warrior brought out only by injustice. He would use that cruelty to his advantage.

Silence fell around them, save for the crickets, the gentle whisper of the nearby river. I don't know when I'll go, Verx said after a moment, but it needs to be soon. Before their scents leave the cave.