31
I ate the breakfast two women delivered without being ill. It seemed strange that my stomach should so cheerfully accept food when I’d gutted a man the night before.
The women didn’t stare at me, didn’t curse and call me a killer when they cleared away my empty plate.
I wished they had. It would have been easier to hear the word from someone else’s lips than to listen to the constant echo of it in my own mind.
Finn chattered on as we waited in the stick house. Food, Lygan Hall, the people around our camp, the people of the Duwead Clan who hadn’t come to the camp. He talked without pause for hours. It was almost as though he too could hear the word echoing in my head and wanted to drown it out.
“We should go look for him,” I said for the fifth time when the sun had grown to full bri
