They had a thousand motivations. A thousand justifications. A thousand reasons. They either struggled and fought for all of them or none at all. Sometimes, it only took one powerful ideal, one object, one symbol, for the complexity to fall into line. Everything else was swept away by the force of that one thing. It didn’t seem likely anyone in the village would act out too much, especially with this powerful figure lurking in the shadows. Decklan found his lips moving again, almost against his will. Ghosthound.
