Dwyn watched as Gwilym set about the grizzly business of disposing of the bodies of the slain centaurs. Soon enough Artesius began helping him. Meanwhile the younger centaur settled down beside Dwyn. He twisted his hands together continually and Dwyn noticed he was trembling slightly.

“I’m Dwyn,” he said softly, at a lost for what to say.

“Hesperios,” the centaur returned. “I can hear the grasses. They’re… Their roots are all connected so they know what’s happening everywhere. They warned me what was going to happen.”

“So that’s why you were able to escape?” Dwyn reasoned.

“I was over the ridge when it happened. I watched from the tree line.” His voice caught in his throat as he continued, “I couldn’t move. I just stood there, watching. They killed anyone who resisted – including foals. The others they took. I… I don’t know where.”

“We’ll find them,” Dwyn promised. “It’ll be alright.”

Hesperios nodded but Dwyn doubted it was because he believed the words. Then they sat in tense silence, waiting.

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