Silverlight Terrace the tell-tale heart

Another child might have seen the innocence in that moment, comisserating with the girl as she ached and cried. Karst held no affection for Avicus. One might say he lacked the capacity for empathy, given that he was an orphan, and that he might relish the chance to witness such bereavement from someone who had, until now, only caused him pain.

His loyalty to Merrick, those promises made, should have spoilt by now; they were not within the confines of the valley, but Karst could not turn his back on them. The one constant in his life was Merrick's will.

But he did not move to comfort the bruin's daughter.

His grip on the tusk only deepens, scoring it with his teeth. Karst could bury it here and be done, but he doesn't want to. The theft was his own doing - an act of sabotage - and it had not been ordered by anyone.

Were the tusk to hold the witch's power, he now claimed it as his own. Such things peppered his mind; but he could not voice this to Avicus, even as she asked after the talisman.

She lurches to her feet and moves as if to strike at him. Angry with his silence maybe, or feeling weak, it does not matter.

Icks menne. Karst states.

He feels his haunches quiver for how close she is, watching the shine of her teeth. He tongues the tusk's surface and then spits it out, only to paw it closer, possessive.

It is precious to her. Without it she will hurt.