Sunset Valley yeah. i couldn't either.

If he’d had more of a mind to understand what his friend was shouldering, Swordfish would have been quick to dismiss the apology. Instead, Quennell’s words fluttered meaninglessly through his head until sorry was all that he could hear. The young wolf was sorry, yes. He knew that his mother would be upset, horrified, distraught at the danger they had faced. Having just erased that worry from her features – the worry that had settled there during Njord’s absence – Swordfish was not eager to replace it.

Sleep was tempting him into the darkness. The bleeding had slowed and the wounds in his side were throbbing less and less. If he tried hard enough, he might forget the attack from the Shardik and they could nap away the fear.

Quennell spoke again, this time with a prompt. They were to rise and continue their journey on the count of three. Three seconds did not feel adequate. Three hours would not even ease the soreness of his legs or the ache of his broken rib. A dark thought in the back of Swordfish’s mind told him that if he did not rise and continue walking, that place in the snow would become his grave.

On t’ree.

A long pause left silence in the space between them.

One…