Maybe it was because of the affection showed to him by the tiger that made me look at this Beastkin favorably, and seeing the light of disappointment in his eye when Dorrik did not appear, I coughed, "He is at the forge, and I think he would be there for a while."
The Beastkin's single golden eye studied me. Up close, I could see the damage more clearly. The empty socket had been roughly bandaged, but fresh blood still seeped through. His coat was torn in a dozen places, and the fabric was dark with old stains that might have been blood or might have been something else.
"I am Ruggah," he said. His voice was deep and rough, like stones grinding together. "This is my warband. We are all that remains of the Serrath Garrison."
All that remains. These words had accompanied me for a while now, and the way he said it just brought me back to a different time, when I had stood in the ashes of my village and counted the dead.
