edit: and you get my 300th post!
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the pleading in peregrine's voice hurt lasher deeply, for he knew he had hurt the man deeply, opening the wound that surely was not yet healed, as it was not for taltos. he was silent, tasting salt upon his lips, and when it came his turn to speak, he drew a shuddering breath and found he could not.
the salt in the soreness of the laceration, he knew, was himself and blue willow. dimly he noted the look upon the panther's face and nodded dumbly. junior is pursuing her trades, developing into a fine and fierce young woman. saena has found her voice, which is a well thing,
lasher blurted, his words stumbling over one another in their attempt to lock peregrine to the ground where he stood. pura is here. he is silent; he rarely speaks, but he is existent, and ty — she has fled us. a quarrel drove her, i believe.
he did not force the necessity of the conversation regarding himself and the healer; he had already bludgeoned peregrine once. he need not do it again.