The Elder smiled. “You think it’s my bias?”
“No,” Chrystal replied slowly, “but it is from your perspective. Others may have their own sides to… To all of this,” she replied.
Her hand moved from her head to her chest. “My father, he…,” she rasped, “He is in their thrall. I can talk to him, convince him to break from them.”
“This,” her hand was on her head again, then her fingers moved to her eyes as she stared into the space before her, “It may not be everything.”
She turned back to the Elder, her great-grandfather, “It may not be complete,” she said softly.
He stared at her, still smiling, but his gaze grew distant, tired, and sad, all at the same time.
“I have seen many shifters in my time, my Luna, few have the will to see the good, as much as you do.”
His gaze refocused, and he
