For a long moment, no one spoke. Not Alpheo. Not Asag. Not Jarza.
The crackle of the water, the soft hiss of reeds brushing in the breeze, and the distant call of some unseen bird filled the space between them. The sun had shifted lower now, casting long, golden lines across the lake, painting the world in the colors of late afternoon. Still, no one said anything. But Egil shifted, just a small movement, a slight scrape of his boot on the dirt, and then cleared his throat as if bothered from the silence.
He was a creature of sound, and as a consequence he disliked the quiet.
"I'm not trying to be ungrateful or anything," he said, his voice lower now, less sure of itself. "Truly, I'm thankful. For what you've done, for what we've built. We have warm beds now. Bellies full of food. We're not anyone's dogs anymore. We answer to no one but ourselves."
He paused, staring out across the water. His jaw worked as if trying to find the words he really meant to say.