Ravensblood Forest the seas did not forgive, and they did not welcome their wayward children home

Her gaze dropped away from his. This was fine; it only meant that she was not staring at him anymore. He was tired of their eyes – always on him, always watching – and he wished that he could avert the gaze of every beast that followed him. The trepidation that she displayed was not enough for him to really feel anything for her. If she feared him, all the better. She should not have remained to talk to him.
 
It was not words that she followed his statement with, though. The pale woman pulled something from her back and displayed a stored piece of meat from within. Just as soon as the first few words were leaving her mouth, Smokestep was already diving for the scraps. His gaunt features twisted into a macabre expression of feral hunger. He did not even chew but swallowed the piece whole and then turned his attention sharply toward the moon-cloaked stranger.
 
“Do you know me?” the pallid specter asked. Sandpiper hissed at his side, nipping his haunch in a warning. He was not supposed to ask. He was not supposed to reconnect with those he had left behind. Smokestep knew better, but he had been a servant of the trench keeper for long enough. This woman had treated him with a kindness that was unknown, but why?