They leave Twitchtip behind. Gregor gives her a scrap of meat, some bread. Ares sees the hunch of his shoulders — this is too little, it seems to say, far too little. But Ares hears how Twitchtip's breath hitches ever so slightly. This means something.
"Fly you high, Twitchtip." Gregor's voice is a rasp of its own — it has been that way since they sat in the tunnel, bleeding and broken. When Ares flew in and said that there was no answer. That the Tankard had swallowed his sister whole. He sounds like a dying man.
He is only a boy.
Ares is close to correcting Gregor on his misstep — that fly you high is meant for humans and fliers, for those whose feet need not touch the ground for long. Not for bruised, patch-fured gnawers. But he does not correct Gregor. Because this means something. That is the nature of the little things, he has come to look.
Twitchtip laughs. It is a short laugh, uneven beats with wet coughs filling in the cracks. Blood spills onto the ground as she says what Ares has been thinking. "You don't say that to a rat."
"What do you say in a situation like this?"
"Like this?" That patchy laugh lingers behind her words. "Run like the river."
"Run like the river, Twitchtip."
Run like the river that never ends. Run on and on and do not falter. Run and live.
Not many a human would say those words to a gnawer. Not many a gnawer would reveal those words to a human who asks.
The words are common knowledge. As much as every gnawer knows what fly you high means, so does every Underlander know the words run like the river. Except for him. Gregor the Overlander.
"You, too."
And they leave her. Ares hears Gregor's silence and knows what he is thinking — that this is far too little. That they ought to have done so much more. That they ought not to have left her, like everybody has.
"She is strong and cunning, to have survived in the Dead Land for so long. And she has a place near enough to hide," says Ares.
"I know." Gregor's voice betrays him. No, he does not know. He does not know how it will ever be justified to have left Twitchtip bleeding and alone in enemy territory.
Ares' ears twitch. For yes, he knows the feeling. He knows all these emotions. He has never been good with words. "She loathes her life alone," he says, and hopes that Gregor understands. "Your killing the Bane is her only hope. If I were Twitchtip, I would not want you to come back."
Because, Gregor, you did not leave her alone. You did not. You came for her in the whirlpool. You spoke to her and you made her a friend. You told her to run like the river. You did not leave her alone.
And he does not know how to speak those words. How to make them make sense. But he hopes that Gregor understands how much it means. All of this.