The Elves of Cintra (Book 2 of The Genesis of Shannara)

Half an hour later, they buried the Weatherman, the darkness nearly complete, the soft glow of a cloud-shrouded moon providing their only light. They gathered about his grave in a tight knot, and one by one they spoke about him.

“He was a strange old guy,” Bear declared in his slow, meticulous way. He shifted his big frame from foot to foot, uneasy at having to speak. But Owl had asked them all to say something, and Owl was their mother.

Bear cleared his throat. “He wasn’t always easy to understand. But he was kind and never did anything to us. He was always looking out for us, even when we didn’t know it. Hawk said so. We’ll miss him.”

“The Weatherman always told us when to watch out for things,” Sparrow added. “He was good about that, even if we didn’t always understand him. If he was a kid, we would have made him a Ghost.”

“Say what you want about that old man,” Panther declared, after thinking about it a moment. “Say what you want, but then remember that he gave us River, and she’s special.”

It was so unexpected that for a moment no one else said anything. They just stood there in the shadows, looking at Panther.

“What?” Panther said finally, his face turning darker than usual. “I’m just sayin’ what’s so!”

“The Weatherman was our friend,” said Chalk, and after pausing for a moment couldn’t seem to think of anything else. He cleared his throat, glanced around at the others, and shrugged. “He was our friend,” he repeated. “Always.”

Then it was Fixit’s turn. The boy stood there, looking at the ground, his body stiff and tight with emotion. He shook his head. “I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.

“I do.”

River walked over to him and put her arm around him. “My grandfather was a good man, and he lived a good life. It wasn’t always easy, but mostly. He liked all of you; he told me so. He got to come with you when you left, even though he didn’t think he would be allowed to. That made him happy, even when he was sick. I know it did.”

She paused, her arm still around Fixit. “If he was here, Fixit, he would tell you that what happened to him wasn’t your fault. You are not to blame yourself for his dying. You were a good friend to him and you are a good friend to all of us, and we don’t any of us want to think about it anymore. It’s over.”

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, then put her arms around him and hugged him. Fixit was crying, but Owl, sitting in her wheelchair and watching his face, knew it was going to be all right.

LOGAN TOM wasn’t so sure.

He was unsure not only about Fixit, whom he was already viewing as damaged goods, but also about the way all of this was going to turn out. The expectation was that they would travel south toward the Columbia River, finding Hawk and Tessa on the way, and everything would work out. But this assumed a few things. It assumed that they would get there in one piece. It assumed that Hawk would be easily found once they arrived. And it assumed that the journey itself would not do such emotional and psychological damage that they would not be able, over the course of time, to heal themselves.

The first two added up to enough wishful thinking to sink a barge, but the last was the one that bothered him the most. He knew something of the sort of damage that journeys undertaken in this world could inflict on you. He had made more than a few over the past twenty years, and he still carried the scars deep inside. The Ghosts had overcome a lot to get to where they were, and their bonding as a family had helped to shield them. But they were still just children, with only Owl, Panther, and Bear old enough to be viewed as grown-up, and for all their bravado and determination they were likely so much cannon fodder for what lay between them and their destination.

For half a dozen years, they had not left their sanctuary in the city of Seattle.

They had not traveled more than a few miles from their home. Everything they knew was behind them. They were starting life over, a little family setting out on a strange road for a strange land.

Could they finish such a journey when things like the insect machines and the Freaks waited for them around every twisty bend and in every dark corner? What were the chances they could survive? Could they manage without him? These weren’t idle questions. They were considerations he had been worrying over ever since they had set out from the city. He needed to know if they could make their way alone. Because he was thinking that at some point they might have to.

Because, in truth, he was thinking it might be best if he left them behind.

It sounded harsh, but it was the pragmatic choice. His charge from the Lady by way of Two Bears wasn’t to save the Ghosts. It was to find and protect the gypsy morph, who just happened to be one of the Ghosts in its current transformation. He was to give the morph a chance to save humanity from the coming conflagration, to give it a chance, he assumed, to repopulate and rebuild the world. That charge did not involve the other Ghosts in any way, shape, or form.