Deepwood Weald [m] red flax

Just like that, she was gone. Dutch felt cold and numb in her wake, but he had no mind to call her back to them. She would go where she pleased — and all Dutch could do was hope that she found kindness. Found peace. Happiness.

He sighed, turning a lost look on his wife. He knew she would not feel the same grief, but he wondered if he was more worried than he ought to be. He wondered if he was less.

"She is strong," he said to Simbelmyne and Chakliux both. Perhaps he said it to himself.

The seal hunter got a laugh out of him, huffy but true.

"If this is the truth, I will wear that badge with honor," he said, hiding his annoyance well. His quarrel was also with Cen, who had disrespected his wife and his hunting partner both in the short conversation. To say nothing of whatever had transpired with Sulukinak. Dutch did not yet know enough to decide whether he blamed the man for that.

If he was family to her — if he was her blood — then Dutch felt bound to treat him as such.

"I will seek him out again before this," he said with another quiet sigh. "She may well follow him even then. And so there are things I must know about this man."

And there were things that Cen needed to know, if the man truly sought to welcome her to his tribe. The Harvest was still heavy in his thoughts. He needed to know if Cen practiced it. He needed to know what would happen when he learned of the dangerous and abominable beliefs his shadow girl held.

He looked back at Simbelmyne, wondering — not for the first time — if this terrible truth need yet be shared with her. He'd hoped that, perhaps, it could be kept between himself, Sulukinak, and moonwoman. Now he wondered if even moonwoman would seek to help her, or only to chase her away.