Lys: Grace

He felt both prongs of the barb. One he resented, the other, he could not blame her for. Were it not for the latter, he would have told her in no uncertain terms that he was neither a boy nor less than a warrior, as she herself had already acknowledged.

But he'd been on the wrong side of a fight that affected her very closely, and so he allowed her her darts, accepting them with a nod of quiet passivity.


Aithne felt a small flame of pride ignite in her. They had yet to speak of Aidan, but she knew it was not his intention to harm the boy. The fact that he did not contradict the Guttersnipe's words spoke volumes to her. He did not make war on women and children, but he had not been above speaking his mind to one who was strong willed and (in his perception) unreasonable.

Her grip tightened on his arm, reassuring and encouraging. They would make it through- she knew it. God would not have sent him back to her only to snatch him away again. He had already rescued Cathair once- he would do it again.

Once more she felt the need to tell the Guttersnipe her news from home. She should know about her father, anyway, so as to be prepared for what would happen this evening. Taking a breath, she addressed the girl. "Guttersnipe... I must tell you something, when you have time to listen. Before the evening meal."

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