"You left because I killed you," Archer choked out. "Seventeen times, Thomas. Faust shot you seventeen times with a poison arrow because I took too long to choose which pup...to kill. I killed you too. Me. All because I couldn't choose, and it didn't make any difference." His voice broke, and the pain rolling off of him suffocated me.
"You didn't have a choice," Thomas told him. "I don't blame you. I blame myself. I didn't know the enemy until it was too late. I didn't even see them coming. When our pack started dying, I didn't immediately know who to blame."
I screwed my eyes shut briefly and bit the inside of my cheek hard. I was partly to blame, my baba, ama, and me.
"I left the morning after because Faust was coming. Again." Thomas's voice turned huskier then, scraped raw with emotions and memories. "I led them away from you, what was left of my pack, the three most valuable things in my entire life."