A slow warmth caressed, it spread and danced, it had already been there but seemed just out of notice. He noticed it now. … It whispered by, quiet, peaceful like it hummed a gentle tune of greeting.
The city. Roe spat. He hated the place. … They were quick to fire. … Tigs ran, for his life, for Crescent Bay, he was a ghost through the camp, a shadow, that could burn like the sun.
“Time is an elusive friend and a stoic enemy.” … It is said, that was the day Tigs found Lightning placed in his hands. None knows what was in that pouch.