Warren's mind continued to run through everything, driving it home as deeply as he could to make sure the details weren't lost to the remnants of whatever he had been drugged with.
The old man had taken him for dead and Warren wasn't sure that wasn't the truth. The geezer had pulled him to his feet, made a makeshift tent with his cloak. Warren remembered the blue fire, the memory spreading phantom warmth into his fingers and toes and lips and cheek and nose.
That's not warmth. You're going to lose them. Frost is too much.
He pushed away useless data and focused on the important parts. He didn't dare pull the lock out, not with his fingers are far gone as they were. Even through his gloves the long night had simply been too much. He thought again that he was actually dead somewhere on the mountainside, frozen to the snow and worthless.
The thought turned his focus to anger.
Geezer was holding a lock of her hair. He took it from her, and Warren regretted his decision to not tear him limb from limb.
Focus.
A camp. High in the mountains. An impassable ravine. A voidsent turning them into monsters.
He has them. He took us all. A fiend out of the hells to reshape us. To make us living weapons. The boy followed for her, he had to have, he wants nothing to do with that fiend or his ways, but he won't leave her.
Someone took them. Someone found them in the snow and took them.
You love the girl then? She's given herself over to the fiend you know... she wants to be like him.
Warren blinked against the thought. No time for it.
I told you - they're in the hells with the nastiest voidsent of all. He wants to turn them into demons, too. It's half-done now. Maybe more. He'll either kill them or they'll come back as demons.
Enough. Worthless details. Concentrate.
Prauvaulient's girl was found dead of exposure in the snow past Whitebrim. A spear was beside her, crudely fashioned but effective. Warren was carrying a similar one now, a replacement for his sword, taken from Geezer. Prauvaulient tried to murder Warren.
Too close to him. You're too close, it was an accident but you're on the same path. Geezer will be gone, too, found in the snow.
All he needed to do was get back to Whitebrim as one piece. It didn't matter what fell off of him when he got there; As long as he was breathing he could see this through. Prauvaulient was the lock on the rest of what Warren needed.
He owned many sharp, pointy keys. One of them would fit.
The old man had taken him for dead and Warren wasn't sure that wasn't the truth. The geezer had pulled him to his feet, made a makeshift tent with his cloak. Warren remembered the blue fire, the memory spreading phantom warmth into his fingers and toes and lips and cheek and nose.
That's not warmth. You're going to lose them. Frost is too much.
He pushed away useless data and focused on the important parts. He didn't dare pull the lock out, not with his fingers are far gone as they were. Even through his gloves the long night had simply been too much. He thought again that he was actually dead somewhere on the mountainside, frozen to the snow and worthless.
The thought turned his focus to anger.
Geezer was holding a lock of her hair. He took it from her, and Warren regretted his decision to not tear him limb from limb.
Focus.
A camp. High in the mountains. An impassable ravine. A voidsent turning them into monsters.
He has them. He took us all. A fiend out of the hells to reshape us. To make us living weapons. The boy followed for her, he had to have, he wants nothing to do with that fiend or his ways, but he won't leave her.
Someone took them. Someone found them in the snow and took them.
You love the girl then? She's given herself over to the fiend you know... she wants to be like him.
Warren blinked against the thought. No time for it.
I told you - they're in the hells with the nastiest voidsent of all. He wants to turn them into demons, too. It's half-done now. Maybe more. He'll either kill them or they'll come back as demons.
Enough. Worthless details. Concentrate.
Prauvaulient's girl was found dead of exposure in the snow past Whitebrim. A spear was beside her, crudely fashioned but effective. Warren was carrying a similar one now, a replacement for his sword, taken from Geezer. Prauvaulient tried to murder Warren.
Too close to him. You're too close, it was an accident but you're on the same path. Geezer will be gone, too, found in the snow.
All he needed to do was get back to Whitebrim as one piece. It didn't matter what fell off of him when he got there; As long as he was breathing he could see this through. Prauvaulient was the lock on the rest of what Warren needed.
He owned many sharp, pointy keys. One of them would fit.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
