Shortly before dawn they were huddling around a campfire, for once not planning their route but narrating old myths. After Hesseth had finished her story about the Rakh's creation Damien faced Tarrant. "You've certainly lived long enough to pick up a good yarn, Hunter. Mind sharing one?"
"And leave you to battle a horde of fae wraiths afterwards? Not really, Vryce," the adept snorted haughtily. "You'd better get some sleep instead of adding to the number of our enemies."
Vryce blinked, wondering whether he had imagined the undertone of honest caring in that insufferable bastard's voice.