The Bramble Vest held his bow steady for a while, in silence, as Kestrel waited: her eyes closed, chin held high without fear.
"The dragon attack is our tribe's best shot at taking control of the village—while the cultivator presence in the area is severely weakened," the Bramble Vest explained. "Today, you will regret turning your back on us."
Kestrel opened her eyes, wincing in alarm. "You speak with such pride, yet the tribe continues to exist as mere opportunistic scavengers."
"Be careful with what you say, little bird…"
"Or what?" Kestrel furiously retorted. "You have already made clear your intentions with me, so what have I left to lose by speaking my mind? Life among the Forbidden is no different from slavery, and I am most fortunate to have found a truly kind and generous master to serve instead."
"Is that so, little bird? And, I suppose you have also forgiven them for the other great loss they incurred on you...?"
