“I don’t even know what a boarbear is.” Folly takes his hand slowly, barely touching. Like a feather threatening to fly away on the wind. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” Yarrow grasps Folly firmly. He’d feel bad about the way Folly flinches, but Folly seems to flinch at everything. “Don’t worry. Boarbears are only a problem if they kill you before you can kill them. Hasn’t happened to me yet.
