Page 46 of Savage Devotion

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"Hold the position. Trust your judgment. I'll return."

Instructions. Promise. Personal vow.

Everything I can offer without compromising operational security.

Faith in her competence and my own survival.

"I'll be here."

Simple words. Complex meaning.

Promise of her own.

Anchor point for my return.

Reason to survive whatever waits at Skullcrack Pass.

I mount my horse and follow Garok into the darkness, the war-cord's absence from my belt feeling like phantom weight. Behind us, Ressa's silhouette stands outlined against the forge's dying glow, solid and reliable as the stone foundations that anchor clan territory.

She'll hold the position.

She'll be there when I return.

If I return.

When I return.

Personal determination backed by professional competence.

Mission success and personal survival.

Both necessary.

Both achievable.

Both worth fighting for.

The horses pick their way through darkness toward whatever waits at Skullcrack Pass, carrying us toward combat that will determine clan survival and personal future with equal weight.

Duty calls.

Honor demands.

Love motivates.

All three point in the same direction.

6

RESSA

The fire crackles low, embers painting shifting shadows across my hands as I feed it another piece of dried wood. The flame gutters, then catches, sending sparks spiraling into the star-drunk sky. Around me, the camp sleeps with guards posted, weapons close, everyone dreaming of home or glory or simple survival.

I should sleep too. Should conserve energy for whatever tomorrow brings. Instead, I sit here in the moon-washed silence, fingers grazing the braided cord where it rests against my collarbone, warm from my skin and heavy with meaning I'm still learning to understand.

Ironspine protection cord.

Promise of return.

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