A tidal wave of emotion was crashing through a very weak wall, and in a few seconds I knew I was going to lose it completely. I couldn’t do that out here. So, I stared at the spot where Soren was supposed to be and closed my eyes tight, willing some type of connection to the bond but … no. Nothing. Nothing in the air, nothing in the wind, there weren’t a thousand heartbeats of all the little creatures, and when I finally, ashamed, crawled outside the snow den, there were no more little lines of color either. The stag had left me, like Soren, in this cruel place. Left me to most likely die at the claws of Fjalar. A tear slipped from my eye and down my cheek.

The rest of the group didn’t say anything to me and lingered in the presence of my pain. I was glad for that. I couldn’t bear to let them see me like this. My guts hurt so bad, I wanted to throw up, even though I’d had nothing yet this morning and had since digested the food I ate last.

Was this how it felt to break again? To hold yourself together by your arms in fear that the break in your chest would make you fall to pieces? I made a pitiful noise in the back of my throat. This was what happened when you trusted someone. Sooner or later, they broke it, in some horrible way, and left you to pick up the pieces of yourself like glass. I thought I knew Soren. At least, I thought I knew him enough to know he’d never run away from a challenge.

I thought he’d been okay. He was struggling with his disability, and I couldn’t blame him considering the culture he came from. Fighting was an identifying characteristic of a strong goblin, and if he could fight, then why was the stag still by his side? Not just fighting, but it came to my attention I’d never seen a goblin with a physical disability before.

He’d always been protective. But I liked to think of it as a good type of protective. He’d taken care of me at my worst for years. But now, I could hold my own, I could protect him back. And me protecting him without him being able to protect me must’ve dug deep into the cultural viewpoint embedded into his brain.

Despite everything I said, I couldn’t fight this for him. I could try to say words to break through the self-hatred, but I couldn’t get it to go away on my own. It was something you did yourself with the support of people who loved you. Even that wasn’t enough, sometimes.