Whitewater Gorge Floating

As far as Finley was concerned, she’d made a good case for herself and her origin. But the others didn’t seem to feel the same.

Derg replied with a grunting hum and an apology for “offending” her. Was she offended? He seemed taken off-guard, and the apology, genuine. Maybe he didn’t realize he’d suggested Finley was beyond help. For this she could sympathize; her own standoffish demeanor had annoyed the scattered traveler, for reasons largely unfathomable. But she found it hard to justify his statement on failing being the fault of the teacher, not the student, and the accompanying implication that Finley’s failure had been anyone’s fault but her own. Still, she relaxed somewhat, content to accept his apology and let the comment slide unremarked—

But Colin was bitter. He spoke with a grave finality, to which Derg agreed without question, and both left Finley baffled. It wasn’t as though she’d said her own family was killed. Colin stopped his rant there, as if ashamed, and Finley was almost disappointed. Where had this come from?

Regardless, she wasn’t here to make enemies. After glancing between the males, and occasionally to the leaders ahead as if hoping for an interjection that wouldn’t happen—she hadn’t gone mad suddenly, had she?—Finley finally spoke again. “I suppose,” she said, hesitation punctuating each word, “when you put it that way, it’s… harsh.” Frankly she hadn’t spared the issue a second thought, or even thought it an issue at all. “The unsuccessful aren’t killed.” Never mind that she’d never heard of a blind, deaf, or naturally weak wolf dragging the ranks down. She was alive. “Nothing stops them from establishing themselves elsewhere.”

There was more to say; Finley decided, at the last moment, against it. She’d tripped down her own rabbit hole already; the details of her upbringing were more irrelevant than ever.