Sunset Valley a name she dared not find

What did he know?

Katmai was quiet for a moment. He felt sometimes that he could picture the place very clearly, despite never having set foot there. His father hadn't, either, but it was still a place of spiritual and historical importance to him, to his family. His grandmother had been born there, and she was the family's matriarch.

"I've been told it's a place where the hills touch the sky," he replied; the words were still precious to him. "I know it's meant to be a week or so inland from the sea, and I think I turned inland at the right place. I've day and days further to go."

But he would find it. Katmai was sure.

He listen, solemnly, while the woman told him of her fractured pack. He couldn't help but think of the darkwood where he'd been born, and of the plateau where he'd been partially raised. He'd been lost, however, for much of his childhood. These fractures seemed natural to him, even if they were no less painful for it.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he replied, not unkindly, and not without compassion, but without much concern, either. She was alive, she seemed largely whole, and she was young enough to find more for herself. Katmai hoped that she would. "And I'm sorry I'm not that face," he added, a wry smile stretching his black lips. "But thank you for the advice. I'll gladly take it. War doesn't sound like a good use of my time.

But still — he wondered what had happened. In his young eyes, the question was unfortunately clear.

"Will you be alright?" he hedged, hoping for more information, but unwilling to outright pry.