Swiftcurrent Creek witchlore

One more quick survey of his cousin served Akavir to clamp any rising questions he had and wisely keep quiet for now. Lestan had never been a man assertive in his countenance—nor did he demand his presence to be known. Yet there was still something different about the dark man at his side now—decidedly broken.

It was a strange thought to know the man returned once more—particularly when his first impressions of Akavir had been the man had forced a raiding girl as prisoner.

One day he would ask Lestan why he wanted to return when their last conversation had been filled with resentment and vitriol—for now—he would simply provide a safe place to rest and a meal.

They had nothing in common—but blood. And blood mattered.