sometimes, the sun shines
#7
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indent Ahren moved forward, onto the porch. The snow in his fur was melting now, and yet he felt nothing. Teaching himself not to feel was something he had learned a long time ago. Without answering the question, his hands went to the pouch at his side and drew the hand-rolled tobacco. This, and a pack of matches, he passed to Laruku. Settling against the post, he began to roll one for himself. “He’s not her father,” Ahren reminded him. “Even if he was the one who started this thing, it’s still your blood in her.”
indent Shrugging lightly, he took the matches back from his friend and lit one. The flame set odd light onto his face, and was snuffed out with two shakes and tossed into the snow. Ahren drew a breath of smoke in and exhaled before speaking. “You just need to talk to her. That’s all they really want.” He spoke with the knowledge of a man who had walked that road before.




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