"Stubborn little kaari," he murmurs. "Why are you so against asking for help? Why do you not want anyone to see your weaknesses?" I shift on the blankets. "Because they'll use them against me." "You think I would do that to you?" "Yes," I say immediately. Haven't we both said things we didn't mean in the heat of an argument right in front of everyone in camp? That's part of the problem. There are no secrets in the encampment, and our business becomes everyone's business when a voice is slightly raised. I know I've argued with intent to hurt, using words to draw blood, and I know he has, too.
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