Maria turned away from where she'd been trying to get varying reactions out of Abram to see her father emerge first from the longhouse, tall and proud in his ceremonial furs.
Behind him came Lord Ross, the man's eyes snapping immediately to his son. As he stepped into the daylight, he raised a hand.
"Abram."
The name rang out like a command. The young man snapped forward immediately with no sign of hesitation, going to join his father.
Maria's eyes followed him, still curious about him. There was something about the way he moved. Controlled. Disciplined. Distant. Like he'd practiced the motion thousands of times like it was a sword move.
She wondered what kind of life a boy like him must have had to be… the way he is. What kind of father raised a son with that kind of silence?
As the group began moving, she didn't stay where she was. She followed them from a short distance, ignoring Bellamy's warning glance. She had no intention of missing whatever was going on.
