Lys: More To The Story

"Well," Cathair said, rubbing the back of his neck. "There's a bit more to it than that. I just thought you probably wouldn't be interested in hearing it. Besides, Aithne's the storyteller between us... and she speaks your language better than I do. I'm sure she'd be able to make something better out of it."

He sighed. "As for a home... you're right. But I'm not completely without funds. And God willing, there won't be a next time to make plans for." Looking around, he took stock of his surroundings, seeing the remains of the night's work still here and there.

"Jason... last night- there was a boy with Aithne. He was wounded- I saw it done. Could you... could you tell me how he fares?" He was near certain of the answer, but, like Aithne with her father, hoped against hope he was wrong.


Aithne sat a moment longer, but the peace was slowly being erroded by the effort it took to hold back the sadness.
Eyes still closed, she said, "My father is dead. He was wounded when they took me, and died a few days later." The tears spilled out, then, despite her effort to stop them.

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