Bearclaw Valley Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men.

The last time he had been here, Averna had spoken to him of a creature called Sithis; he still did not understand much about this, however, as the dark figure dripped from atop the boulder and shrouded him with a familiar warmth, he thought of that tiny moment.

The voice that came was one he recognized too, except he did not recoil from it as he might have weeks ago; he did not flinch or even think to be wary, as he was tired, worn thin by his time separated from the collective.

Karst was silent — slowly tipping his chin so that he could look up at the glower on the man's face, and with a weary sigh burrowed against Merrick's haunch.