Firefly Glen due to an internal explosion, it breaks into two parts

They sit and eat in relative silence again, and when he's finished he wipes the blood from his face. Another satisfied belch (there's nothing quite like the camaraderie that comes with burping after a shared meal) breaks the quiet.

Yosemite and his chronic side-glances don't concern him all that much as they would've just an hour ago. He was usually crazy about other people's little ticks— hypocritical, because Nine had his own share of them— but the boy was quickly becoming more endearing than pathetic. It was a fragile balance.

Don't matter, he says matter-of-factly. The sun reveals a mackerel sky. 'S long as it's away from back there. He traces a loose line in the air in the direction of where he came and reclines gingerly to the ground.

We'll be lucky to find a pack that won't wanna bite our ears off. He studies the air motes, floating and lit by a diluted dawn, before turning to raise a brow at Yosemite: 'Less you want to stay a lone wolf.