Climbing into the saddle, Diwa nodded to Masarch then swung his mount round.
Pausing for a long moment, Masarch stared at the distant Indians camp, where it seemed the unholy s*******r continued unabated. His guardians, he’d said.
He does not fear challenges to come. He will take the fur of the Ganetok war leader. He will lead us to war against the Indians. He is Diwa, who forswore the Awl, only to now return.
I thought it Was too late.
I now think 1 am wrong.
He thought again of his death night, and memories returned like winged demons. He had gone mad, in that hollowed-out log, gone so far mad that hardly any of him had survived to return, when the morning light blinded him. Now, the insanity was loose, tingling at the very ends of his limbs, loose and wild but as yet undecided, not
