Silvertip Mountain sun in the bloodied hand

If he continued here, he could not ignore it any longer. He'd convinced himself there was meaning to their violence, but if there was, it was meaning the boy could not understand himself. They hurt the things around them with no regret and the thought turned Ashlar's stomach sour. But as he looked at Merrick, he felt something beneath the fear. Curiosity, but tinged with sympathy.

Even seeing this, he couldn't see these wolves as evil. Why are they so afraid?

That thought struck him and was the thing that knocked him from his frozen state. He remembered when Merrick had demanded he choose, and he knew now what that choice would be. It was neither, and they would accept that, or he would leave.

I won't. I won't kill for you. Ashlar said. He was unused to confrontation but not conviction, so only a brief initial tremble betrayed him.