Marlowe
Nobody said a word the whole ride back to the den, and somehow the silence carried more weight than any conversation could have, sitting behind King on the bike with my arms around him and the morning fog burning slowly off the mountain around us.
Bear met us at the gate, took one look at both our faces, and didn't ask a single question — which told me, more than anything either of us could have said out loud, exactly how much had apparently changed overnight in ways that showed on our faces even when neither of us had the words for it yet.
"Everyone accounted for?" King asked, all business, like the last twelve hours hadn't happened at all.
"Everyone's fine. Weather cleared an hour ago, rest of the convoy's already back." Bear's eyes moved between us, quick, assessing, and som
