Qeya River rhodonite

Paws at his hocks, hot breath intercepting Darrow's gait. Boyish - was it one of Wren and Silvertongue's? He skid unto circling halt, sidestepping to keep his balance on the frosted earth.

No - he squinted - a boy unfamiliar. A recruit in his absence. He wouldn't know him, nor the right he had to be here.

I am Darrow, his voice cooled, son of Ash Star and Ksura. And who are you? He mockingly thought. A boy with no claim here - but his judgments remained private, sealed behind lips that only parted to say, where are they?