The Frost-plain Tribe.
Although the mudslide had subsided, mud was everywhere, and the tribe was in a complete mess.
"Lachlan, you… what did you say? You're leaving?"
Gamar gripped Lachlan's arm tightly, her rough knuckles turning white. Her face was filled with panic.
She cried, "Lachlan, you've only just recovered, and Evangeline has broken the Contract! Galen won't hold it against you that you're an abandoned male. Can't we all live together in the tribe, just like before? Why do you have to leave?"
Tears streamed down Gamar's face, her voice trembling.
Lachlan stood as still as a snow pine. Rain traced the fine lines of his brow, gathering into a silver thread on his sharp jawline.
His long, flaxen hair was clean, unadorned by a single Bone Ornament.
