Hunter and I never got to talk, like he said we would.
Before I knew it, it was Sunday night, and I was being driven to the Dawn pack by Malcolm. They’d borrowed a truck from someone (I had no idea who), and we were on the way with some of the belongings I’d gathered, most of them being clothes.
The whole weekend was a mess, and I could still remember the mournful Saturday. The sun had risen even though it was hiding behind the clouds, and with the rising sun came the sickening realization that we’d been attacked and everything was horrible. There were bodies all over of both rogues and the men who were sent to fight us, and it was a depressing sight.
I didn’t see Hunter, and I was ashamed to say that I didn’t help clean up much. Death and the very idea of it was getting to me, and i
