Two different caves. Â Two different parties breaking camp. Two conversations with two different beasts talking to two different cubs. Â Same conversation. Â Different trappings laid over the words. Â The same raw wounds under them.
Listen for a while to the wind as they wind away down two different roads.
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"Surprised you're in one piece. Â You cut down a few men before we managed to get that settled."
"It ain't fir lack of trying, unless you missed that entire shitshow down on the road. Â Reminds me. Â Bury Inky. Â Kid didn't deserve that."
"You and Dad are the only people I know who could screw up a suicide pact."
"I know how the Bastard deals with debts owed. Â He'll keep coming home. Â I'll keep trying to blow his head off. Â Next time you two better not be involved neither or you'll end up like that kid that ate the first volley."
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"The kid you picked off first?"
"Yeah. Â And before you call your old mother heartless hear tell: There's two parts to that. Â First got the alarm down before it went up. Â Second: Kid was working guard duty. Â He wasn't there just to be pretty. Â You think you just kill some of the guards in an ambush? No. Â Balls dropped or no he was carrying steel and protecting the Bastard."
"The kid that you were dragging? Inky? Really?"
"Yeah, gave him a name. Â He earned it. Â Didn't deserve t'get filled full of holes, but he signed on fir guard duty so...risk earned as well. Â Just get his corpse home. Â Bury it where it's warm."
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"So what're you going to do when you get over the border?"
"Limp fir a while."
"That's not an answer."
"So what next? You lost a scouting party when he got in close and personal. Â They're going to ask questions."
"I tell them we found a bandit raid and they had black powder. Â You're both going to corroborate. Â I don't mention the powder belonged to you and your sister."
"Fair deal, I reckon."
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"How many more times am I going to have to haul your bloodied corpse back into a town?"
"Dunno. Â How many times are you gonna stop me getting the axe where it belongs?"
"Dunno, how many more times you gonna send a letter home before you roll into Coerthas?"
"You're both prideful animals. Â How long before you figure one of you breaks and the other eats their heart?"
"Should have happened years ago."
"Like I said. Â Only you two could screw up a suicide pact."
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"You dodged my question, by the by, Mom. Â Why the lantern? Why'd you have it. Â I know that thing was a wedding gift from Granny. Â It's brass and not much else."
"It's a lot of memories of before the world crashed down kid. Â Even us old monsters like to chew on something that used to taste good, in another life, at times."
"Bullshit. Â You hung onto it for five years. Â That's more chewing than you've ever done in your life, and I've seen you eat."
"He wasn't home while Carteneau was happening. Â I came to check. Â Maybe settle the score down there instead of making him come home for another challenge, since he'd retired. Â Except he'd gone marching again. Â Was hanging right where he always hung it in his forge. Â No one except us would give a shit about that brass lantern. Â Common as dirt they are. Â Took the lantern and went home to see if we were all gonna die as the moon came down."
"You know he's going to keep coming back, right?"
"Good. Next time I'll put a slug in his brain."
"Never said why the lantern Dad."
"Check the bottom."
"Know what's on the bottom Dad."
"Like the hells you do. Â There's four names on the bottom there. Â Mine, hers, yours, your brothers. Â The real names, not the bullshit we feed Outlanders. Â Yer granny was good at fine metalwork. Â All the names weave in and out of each other. Â Form into one large word for what it all used to be. Â That's why the lantern. Â People talk about carrying a torch, figure that's mine."
"You know she'll try to kill you if you try coming home again, right?"
"Not if I get her first."
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At opposite ends of a long road, two children hand their parents off into more welcoming arms. Â Neither of them look happy, but maybe accepting. Â It's amazing what kind of answers blood will pull out of people. Â Both of them are humming a tune as they start moving back down the road towards each other. Â One near dancing to the rythmic music, the other under the light of a brass lantern hanging from a gun slung over their shoulder.
The parents? Well. Â One limps off into a snowy fort and the care comrades in arms. Â The other slumps into a merchant cart for the long journey somewhere else. Â
Somewhere that isn't home.
Maybe he'll write another letter.
Maybe soon. Â
Maybe later.