Felltree Marsh lives of the witching circle

Swordfish didn’t really get an answer from Lestan. His teeth clenched and he lowered his head, following after the erratic and scrambling figure.

Another question lingered in the back of his mind. He feared asking it. He hated that he did. When his pride got the better of him and he swallowed the feeling of unease, his dark ears drew forward before he asked…

What if they destroy it?

It had been a small thing, after all. If this woman had any sense left in her, she’d abandon the trinket and flee into the shadows. Leave it somewhere that Lestan would find it without tormenting himself further. Either that or cast it into the sea. He did not think there was a better outcome.