The Reclaimer stood at the edge of the village, his hands empty, his eyes uncertain.
He had been in Haven for a month now, working the fields, helping in the healing house, sitting in on the school. The villagers had accepted him, slowly, cautiously. But there was still a wall between him and them—a wall built of fear, mistrust, and the memory of what he had done.
William walked to stand beside him.
"You're thinking," William said.
"I'm always thinking."
"What are you thinking about now?"
"About whether I deserve to be here. Whether I deserve the chance you've given me."
William was silent for a moment. "Deserve has nothing to do with it. The question is what you do with the chance."
---
The morning was busy.
A farmer had cut his hand on a scythe. A child had fallen from a tree.
