Otter Creek brass knife sinks into my shoulder

"Uh-huh," Dusty said eloquently; he'd still not quite absorbed the fact that his brother had just appeared in front of him. Or on top of him, rather.

Meridian assured him that he hadn't been followed, which was all well and good if it were true. Dusty was suspicious, though. The flower eater was a wily one, and it wouldn't take much of a slip-up to have him back on their tails — if he was still around at all. He didn't want to press his brother, though; if he said he hadn't been followed, Dusty would just have to trust that he hadn't.

"Of course," he agreed on the topic of banding together, for two was always better than one. If he'd dared to do anything other than slip off into the night when he left, he would've tried to recruit one or more of his siblings. Meridian for certain. Perhaps @Lonesome Dove if she could be persuaded to abandon the others. Dusty'd talked himself through an argument where he told her he obviously needed her more than the rest, who would still have some sort of Adult in their fathers, whatever that was worth. Who was going to make sure he ate his berries and chewed his pinecones??

"It's been awful lonesome," he admitted, looking back up at the mountain. "I know Dad and the flower eater always told us we'd be looked down on, but... it's harder than I thought to keep my chin up. I ain't ever been looked at the way some of these fellas've looked at me."

And not in a good way.