“You can't write, yet you learned to hunt, to survive. How?'

I paused with my foot on the threshold. 'That's what happens when you're responsible for lives other than your own, isn't it? You do what you have to do.'

He was still sitting on the table, still straddling the inner line between the here and now and wherever he'd had to go in his mind to endure the fight with the Bogge. I met his feral and glowing stare.

'You aren't what I expected- for a human,' he said.

I didn't reply. And he didn't say good-bye as I walked out.”