As they left, a young boy,the one who had almost been taken by the shadow ran up and hugged Derek’s leg, Derek froze, his large hand tentatively resting on the boy’s head,He looked at Zehra, his eyes wet with unshed tears.
"They deserve better than a butcher," he whispered.
"Then be the shepherd, Derek," she replied softly.
The warmth of the morning was short lived, As they returned to the Citadel, the Sight hit Zehra with the force of a physical blow, She saw a drop of black ink falling into a bowl of pure water,She saw a hand, a hand she recognized slipping a vial of wolfsbane into the communal water supply of the warriors.
"Someone is here," Zehra gasped, clutching Derek’s arm, "Inside the walls,They’re poisoning the well, Derek,Not the physical well,the well of our strength."
Dere
