by C. Greenwood
***
But as it turned out, we didn’t wait for the following morning to return to Red Rock. Brig found us that very afternoon. The purposeful way he strode into our little camp told me he hadn’t found us by accident. I ground my teeth. Obviously, Terrac had talked to him. I should have known better than to send the priest boy back to camp for the brooch. Brig stood silently before us and looked me up and down.
“Sorry,” Terrac mumbled. “He caught me and threatened to beat it out of me. He knew something was wrong when you stayed away so long.”
I could see by Brig’s lack of reaction to my battered face that he already knew what happened. Yet another thanks I owed Terrac. I was relieved at least when he asked no questions.
“Let us see the damage, Ilan,” he said, turning my face to examine the bruises. “Nothing serious,” he observed. “But you should’ve come back earlier and let me clean up these little cuts. For that matter, you’d have done better to avoid a fight with the Hand in the first place. Still, a beating is nothing to be ashamed of. Sulking about it, though, that’s another matter. Hiding away from camp only makes you look like a weakling.”
It stung that Brig, of all people, would kick me while I was down. That was why I said, “You ran away to hide in the forest when your Netta left you and took your sons. Maybe that’s why she went—she didn’t want to be married to a coward. I’m not surprised you’ve nothing to say to me about standing up for myself in a fight but criticize me instead for failing to run from one. When have you ever stood your ground for anything?”
Even as I said it, the unwanted memory flashed through my mind of Brig withstanding Rideon’s orders to protect a little orphaned girl. Right away I could have bitten my tongue out, but it was too late to call the words back.
Brig’s eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and pain. I thought if he hit me I would deserve it. I heard Terrac clearing his throat and backing away. But Brig wasn’t going to let me off so easily. He took a long breath and it was a moment before he spoke.
“You’ve developed a sharp tongue, Ilan,” he observed quietly. “I think I liked you better when you were that silent little hound.”
Filled with remorse, I tried to apologize. “I’m sorry, Brig. I don’t know why I said that. It wasn’t true.”
He held up a hand. “Never mind. If you feel you owe me an apology, you can make it up by coming back to camp. Stop skulking around out here like a petulant child I have to be ashamed of.”
“Alright.” My voice was heavy with regret, but if Brig noticed, it didn’t soften him. Terrac and I followed him back to Red Rock where I faced an unpleasant handful of days to follow.
