Bronger chuckled, his low rumble taunting me, pulling the strings of my muscles and memory, just as it always had. Family, he’d said. It might have worked, too, wielding that word I’d so often dreamed of coming from Bronger’s mouth. Except lately the voice in the dream hadn’t been Bronger’s at all. It had belonged to a man with a giggling girl perched upon his shoulders. The chuckle morphed into a shocked gurgle as I put an arrow through Bronger’s chest.
