I don't remember a time when we've all been together without anyone talking.
Normally someone breaks and says something - a joke to ease the tension or some playful banter between the Rogues - but we've been waiting in Tucker's home since Sampson left and no one has uttered a sound. Not even a sigh. Everyone has been pacing the tribesman's home, arms folded and heads down, their concentration elsewhere. On the valley. On the invasion. On what's most likely happening a few miles away. But even with the soft footsteps, it's been quiet. Unnervingly quiet. And eerie. Nearly everyone we know is away, awaiting or participating in this inevitable battle while we were left here to ride it out.
It all comes down to today.
I'm the one that's supposed to kill Reuzkimpart. Me. And instead of being on the front lines with the others, I've allowed myself to remain here, away from the danger. Away from the fight. How am I going to do what needs to be done if I'm not even near him?