Bramblepoint countless

At first, he offered only silence to her question. It was a subject he'd rather not go into; his story was sad and he feared she would think differently of him if she learned he was a deserter. He avoided her gaze, his own seeming to be somewhere far away. But he had sort of brought it up, which he was regretting now, especially with her once again resting against him and assuring him of how comfortable she was. He could easily change the subject to her comfort, but he felt kind of guilty ignoring her question, even if he really wanted to. Where I grew up, we were trained as soldiers from the second we could walk; it...wasn't a life that allowed me much freedom, he finally offered quietly, deciding not to go into all it had cost him and what it had eventually driven him to do. Maybe another time. He nuzzled whatever part of her he could reach. But enough about me. I want to know more about you, he stated, desperate to change the subject. The other day, at the lake, you and your sister mentioned something about a Razikale's day. He had been curious about it then, but events had shifted the focus before he could ask about it. What is it?