She was leaning over him and he smelled her like he had never smelled anyone before. "Your son," answered the boy. She stood up before him, smiling faintly. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. It comforts him when he is most forlorn.
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