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They were almost to the trees. Ahead, within layers of shadows, hands were reaching out to seize her. He could just make them out in the gloom, writhing like tentacles. They were going to take her from him and he would never get her back again. He was frantic with fear, riddled with despair. He was shouting at her to turn back, to veer off, to do something to get clear before it was too late.
That was well said back there,” Skint observed, dropping back to walk beside him. “I was right about you and the old Rover; you and he did have a strong connection.” Railing gave a desultory nod. “Well, it’s gone now.” The Gnome Tracker snorted. “Oh, I don’t think so. Such things survive death. They live on in the hearts of the living. They help keep the dead from being forgotten. Didn’t you know that?”
He rose with her. He tried not to look at her, but failed miserably and was filled with an aching that worked its way from his exposed skin right down to the deepest part of his heart. He desperately wanted to hold on to her, but he didn’t know if he could.
But Keeton was cut from a different cloth than most. Military through and through, he was suspicious of politicians and their motives. He wasn’t stupid, but he was troublesome.
Sometimes we just have to trust that time and fate will bring us back to where we are supposed to be. Sometimes patience and belief are all we have.”
It was a severing of species without regard to guilt or innocence, without determination of purpose or intent. Some were saved, some were not. Who had made that determination? Who had decided who would stay in his world and who would be locked away in this one?
