The atmosphere pressed in on him, heavy and silent, a strange kind of unnatural violet twilight that only ever happened when a storm hit at sunset. Large drops of rain fell intermittently, the weather holding off for now as thunder rumbled in the near distance. If he was going to catch anything, he needed to make it quick. He caught the bird, added a bunny-like animal to his catch, then took both to the stream to clean them. Up here, the water was crisp and cold, having not merged into the hot springs farther downstream. The reminder of the hot springs brought his traitorous thoughts right back around to the one subject he’d successfully avoided out here alone: Lieutenant Marshal Mae Petros. Although thinking about her was marginally better than contemplating how badly he’d failed both Mikel and Jaren. Recalling how Jaren had succumbed to his injuries only brought him—with a low-smoldering dose of guilt—to what he’d done in the moments before he’d realized the kid was gone.
