Moonspear In all my years of living

He wasn’t injured, he was ill. Treepie nodded her acknowledgement, yellow eyes flitting to his face before refocusing on the climb. Although she knew the mountain well, it required concentration to navigate its steep flanks safely. Besides, she continually course-corrected, navigating the path of least resistance for Hakumele’s sake.

His mention of a daughter—and a home—caught her by surprise. Pie paused, ostensibly to catch her breath and rest a moment. Her brow knit as she motioned for Hakumele to stop too. She would give them a minute before continuing upward.

Where is home? she wondered.

She’d made a lot of assumptions about this fellow, she realized. First, she’d assumed he was hurt. Then she’d assumed he was part of the village. But it sounded like he belonged elsewhere and he was only stuck here until he recovered. Pie couldn’t say why this disquieted her some, though for his sake, she hoped Hakumele mended quickly.