Totoka River innleachd

An amulet…

The little relic he’d carried with him. Swordfish remembered, though he had no idea how Lestan might have procured it from a flaming deer. The troubled man went on to say an old woman and a young man had stolen it and the bear-hunter felt his chest tighten, some instinctive protectiveness that he had formed while herding Lestan along the coast.

Then we get it back.

The drawl of his young voice was less than enthused about the prospect. He hadn’t seen or heard or smelled this troublesome duo. And Lestan was hardly reliable for things like following paths with any hope of finding who left it. He’d spoken in a tongue that did not register familiar to Swordfish.

Even when his daughter had been missing, Lestan had not carried this magnitude of rage. Fortunate for the strange man, Swordfish was keen and knowing. He too had carried all-consuming anger. It still dug with pinprick claws into the valleys of his heart.