Swiftcurrent Creek A sons grief

Etienne accepted his truth. Cambria knew this was it. It was time to wish him well, say goodbye and walk out of his life. He knew that would be for the best for both of them. Besides, Wyvern was out there, waiting for him.

You’re a good man, he said on a sigh. I’m sorry I can’t be, all the things the lovely Dahomey-Rivaini deserved.

It took every ounce of his mental fortitude to tear his two-toned eyes from where they lingered on Etienne’s face, then pivot his upper body. In what felt like slow motion, he forced the rest of his body to cooperate. At length, he faced away from Etienne, to the east.

Take care of yourself, Eti, he said thickly.

Swallowing against a lump in his throat, he began to move on what felt like hollow legs. Cambria told himself not to look back. In fact, he walked a dozen yards looking pointedly forward. But when he was about a hundred yards distant, he stopped and beheld Etienne one last time.