Dawnlark Plains hymn to blood

"I d-didn't ask y-you to come, Shardik! N-Neither of y-you!”

The bear-hunter fell silent. His head swung low, defensive, hurt. The silver-specked glint of his eyes would no longer meet Lestan. He kept them trained to the ground, to the bugs and the dirt and the filth. The earth passed beneath him while Lestan pushed ahead, placing distance between himself and Swordfish.

The last of Lestan’s words had started to crawl beneath Swordfish’s skin.

I don’t want you hurt.

It was much too late for that.

When Swordfish lifted his snout, Lestan was gone from sight. The young man slowed to a stop before he plopped himself into a seated position and looked out at the great stretch of land he had never explored.

Swordfish couldn’t protect anyone. He didn’t know why he even tried.