She looked at me through the mirror and we locked eyes immediately—even as I continued to drive, blindly, recklessly.
“Yes, Eska. M-M-Master. The master of you—and of all living things. Who but he could have—or would have—killed your mother?”
I reached out suddenly and yanked the medallion from around Carter’s neck.
“Your mother, Eska,” I said, shaking the engraving—forcing her to look at it. “This, right here!”
And she took it; even as I faced forward briefly and began to slow down, and the giants, still at war, quickly pulled ahead—vanishing at last into the snow-speckled gloom.
––––––––
Carter was enraged, incensed, speechless.
“What—what is the meaning of this?” He gripped his rifle, trembling with anger, then looked from me to Eska, his face swollen and red. “What have you ...”
