’Tis my own first knife that I got when I had learned to throw. I long outgrew its heft … may it serve you well. . . . 
Wycan slid the knife back in its sheath. 
If you find your father, remember me. 
For long, Wycan sat staring out into the dark, almost until morning.

’Tis my own first knife that I got when I had learned to throw. I long outgrew its heft … may it serve you well. . . . Wycan slid the knife back in its sheath. If you find your father, remember me. For long, Wycan sat staring out into the dark, almost until morning.

&nbsp;’Tis my own first knife that I got when I had learned to throw. I long outgrew its heft … may it serve you well. . . . 
Wycan slid the knife back in its sheath. 
If you find your father, remember me. 
For long, Wycan sat staring out into the dark, almost until morning.

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Wycan - Chapter 20-ii

Wycan - Chapter 20-ii