Qeya River dance the ghost with me

‘I wanted to protect you from me.’

He couldn’t help it—the snort of absolute disbelief surfaces from him, his eyes rapt upon her as she settles almost wearily down to sit. He couldn’t even tell if she was genuine or not—she didn’t want to burden him with her alleged bullshit, but she could with Silvertongue?

Who she had married. She had told him to leave Silver, and then went back to the desert after making him a promise that she would check in with him someday… and the two had run off into the sunset with one another.

It was a lot to unpack. He couldn’t even bring himself to try to grasp it now—and he felt a certain awakening with the realization that as excuses spun out, that Wren wasn’t the friend he had thought her.

And that hurt almost more than when he had first lost her.

“I heard. Congratulations to you both,” he offered, his features a mask of stoicism. What else was there to say, or do? He wasn’t here to try to ruin their happily ever after. He might have been a villain in so many other people’s stories—but he didn’t want to be one here.

What he wanted to do was demand she be real with him—spinning the excuses and lies did little for either of them. But emotionally—he just didn’t have it in him. Not right now. Probably not ever.

“You’ll both want to keep an eye out, then. Some wolf-bear hybrid attacked Mae. Seemed to have a vendetta against women… Told her they needed to learn to keep their mouths shut.” His mouth was set firmly—as sardonic as his words were at first, it was hard to keep the emotion from his voice. “He blinded her. He’s huge. Really dark eyes… scars. Dark fur… a lot of black. Not the kind of guy you'll want around your kids.”