All alone, Miles sat by the arena. His hands were rested on his knees, and his knuckles scabbed from sparring or maybe from guilt.
The night air was still, and unusually quiet, the kind of quiet night that made memories and even thoughts louder.
He stared down at his boots which were heavily coated with dust and worn. He could still see Ralph's glare, and hear Edwin's firm and unwavering voice, from a few days ago.
"Do you trust him?"
"I do not trust him enough to give him the access that he seeks but I want to believe that I trust that he wants to survive. That is enough."
Those words continued fo echo in his head.
"Hmm," he sighed, feeling guilty and incompetent at the same time. "You know that Ralph was right, Miles," his inner mind told him.
" That is what it had always been,
