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. His remorse was bound by chains, made up of links
forged by the deaths that he had caused. And those chains
were heavy ones, colored red by the fire of his need.
Riana's sleep had been brief. Having wakened just when
Flint roused Tanis to take the second of the night watches,
she had drawn close to a fire that she kept blazing high with
whatever fuel came to hand. She had not been a talkative
companion, Tanis thought now as he watched her stirring the
fire to greater brightness, but had spent most of the last watch star-
ing into the dancing flames.
Now he stood and gently took the long, smoke-blackened stick
from her hands.
"Enough," he said, tossing the stick aside. "You put us in
danger of roasting to death." He was sorry to see her flinch. He'd
meant his words lightly, for the mist that had made black ghosts of
the trees earlier in the night had deepened. And though dawn was
only an hour away, warmth and light were welcome.
"Pardon," she murmured. She drew her cloak closer around her
shoulders, holding it closed with a hand that trembled. Still she did
not take her eyes from the fire.
Tanis could taste the bitterness of her fear. "You do well to be
afraid, Riana. If you are considering abandoning your search, you
have nothing to be ashamed of."
"No!"
Flint stirred where he lay wrapped in his blankets against the
cold, damp ground.
"Hush," Tanis whispered. "He's done his watch
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