"You need not worry so much. It's not good for an old man's heart." Kodlak snorted, keeping his comments about old to himself. He was cold, and Tilma would be petty if he pointed it out. "I may have sent a Companion to his death." "He needed something. After what has happened to him in the past year and a half, he needed to know his own strength." Kodlak stood, grumbling and frustrated. Tilma patiently sat by the fire, working on some matter of sewing. She refused to show him, which only added to his consternation. "He's not healed fully yet. Not from the barrow anyways." "He walked out on his own power. Swears he's fine." "And not to mention, I don't know where his mind was at when I told him about the Witches. I ask for myself, but he may take the cure as well." "He seemed rather comfortable with his other side." "His other side almost killed his friends and the womer he cares for." "Do you think Korgul fears the wolf hurting others, or is this Kodlak projecting on a shield brother that reminds him of himself?" Kodlak glared at her, finally sitting down on the edge of the bed and sighing. "They are like my children. I worry for them, and I have just sent one of them off into a literal witches den, when his hand may as well be tied behind his back. Korgul is as willing as any to spill blood for the Companions, but he does not listen when I tell him he has spilled enough. He thinks he needs to lose more, to come closer and closer to death to show those he cares about that he truly does care. I worry because I see myself in him, and I worry because I do not want one of my children to die, especially if they think it's for acceptance they already have." Tilma placed her stitching on the side table, bones creaking as she stood. Crossing to Kodlak, she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, cupping his jaw in her hands. "You are just like any father, worried for their child. But they are not your children, they are grown with motivations of their own. You cannot heal every stray pup that wanders through our doors, my love. You merely can guide when the opportunity arises, and to give them a home to return to. Now, it is late, and we both must sleep." As Tilma turned to blow out the candle, she spoke softly. "I do not think we have seen the last of young gro-Marzinar." The twinkle in her eyes shown briefly before the candle was out, "He knows if he died, Indes would track him down and kill him in the afterlife."