Silverlight Terrace I'm not my season

The question ruffled the warrior. This woman wished to know if he had vacated his role in search of a life enriched by the unknown. Once, when he had been younger, he might have thought the premise to be thrilling, even tantalizing.

Quite the opposite, in fact, Foxfur said. The worn way of his words was like a pliable leather that had been bent and broken over the back of a horse one too many times.

I’m looking for a young boy who carries a rather important position in our home. He has run away.

When Foxfur looked to the woman, he did so with a knowing expression. What the warrior had never admitted was that he understood the princeling and his need to escape. It was a defiance, against all the things that fate dictated.