“What?” Caleb asked, knitting his brows in confusion. “No, no, he didn’t… I was here when you tried to negotiate that. You got into an argument; my father refused the deal.”
“Your daddy said no when we offered to trade in silver and iron weapons,” Jonas said. “But he reached out and agreed to design it for us, so long as we didn’t make the weapons for yours or any other pack.”
Caleb stared at Jonas. He didn’t understand what he was saying.
“Honestly, we were happy to agree,” Jonas continued. “We made only a few dozen of those, but it never sat right with us.”
He stood up and looked out his window to the canyon surrounding them. Silver and iron deposits were scattered all across the canyon walls.
“We chose this mountain so that it could bend and break us. Exposing our weaknesses like a raw nerve until we have scarred over and risen from the blood and the dirt. To stand again on our own two feet.”
He let out a deep sigh.
