May 23, 2016
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“Vigor was always odd. When his father came to me the boy didn’t say a word, just looked up like a helpless puppy. His father was trying not to sound desperate, and I don’t think Vigor understood what was happening because he never begged his father to stay. Now I know he cared, too; the boy doesn’t know it but I remember him crying off in some corner when they said ol’ daddy died.
“I guess he was always soft like that. Do you know how many times I had to ask his name before he gave it? The whelp was all dressed down with all the gifts his life could have given him. He could barely read or write to save his hide, but he was a fine leaner, and knew a hell of a lot about bows.”