by C. Greenwood
***
The bruises on my face attracted a certain amount of attention back at camp and a few of the outlaws asked if I’d stuck my face into a badger’s den. I told myself they meant no harm with their jokes and that for every man who remarked on my battered countenance, there were just as many who appeared not to notice it at all. Still, I knew everyone had heard my story and that was deeply humiliating.
I avoided Terrac during this time. Although I knew he hadn’t meant any ill in betraying me to Brig, I couldn’t shake the notion none of this would have happened if not for him. Of course I realized I couldn’t keep away from him forever. Sooner or later I must stick to our agreement about the lessons. But how could I do that when I couldn’t abide the sight of him anymore? My anger at him grew and the strength of it only made me more miserable. I had grown accustomed to his odd, deprecating company and now I found myself strangely lonely without him.
As for the Hand, he treated me as if nothing had ever happened. It stung to think my captain could dismiss me so quickly after his former harsh treatment, but I told myself it was for the best. I would keep out of his way until another opportunity to prove myself came along. Then I wouldn’t fail him.
Out of all the worries preying on my mind over the following days, my disagreement with Brig loomed largest. Since our heated words, he didn’t seem to look at me in the same way. I couldn’t say he treated me unkindly. But there was something missing from our friendship that had always been there before. I felt I no longer had his trust.
CHAPTER EIGHT