[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]
“I don’t think there’s a maybe about it,” Matt said, voice firm, half rumbling. “You need to make a map, Thom. I know I at least want to know what’s rattling around inside your head.”
Thom smiled faintly, shaking his head. “All right,” he said quietly. “All right, I can take a hint. Draw a damn map, Thom. Let us know what we need to do in case something goes sideways or just in case you’re hurt and can’t direct us.”
“I did not say that,” Matt said, glancing up from his work. “I just said you should draw a map.”
“Whatever the reason, you’re right,” Thom said. “You’re right. I need to make a map.”
Matt exhaled and tugged the blade out of the forge, laying it on the anvil again. “It’s just good to have a plan, Thom,” he said quietly. “Don’t you think so?”
“Aye,” Thom murmured. “You’re right.” His brother-in-law was right about a lot lately, not that it upset Thom much at all.
They’ll need him someday. I don’t know when, but they’ll need him.
Thom let his eyes slide shut for a moment.
They’ll need him when Marin and I are gone.
It would happen someday, that much he knew. There was no doubt in his mind that it would—he’d seen too much, and somehow he knew that Marin had as well, even though she hadn’t said it. She didn’t have to. He knew her well enough.
Someday, we’ll go, and he’ll be left behind.
He’ll be fine. They’ll be fine.
His lips thinned for a moment as he smoothed his hand over the page, staring at it for a few seconds. I just have to make sure that they’re prepared for that day to come and that we left them with the best possible chances we can.
That’s all I can do.
