"Kaden told me," Qebhet said softly, her eyes still on the puppy. It could signify nothing at all— dogs perked their ears toward the babble of human conversation, dogs snatched at loose objects and chewed on clothing, dogs shrank away and hid when they were frightened. But this dog had a human soul, and she could not help but wonder if he yet held onto his human memory, some semblance of a human mind.
"We spoke only the once. The guilt was so heavy on him. I think... he thought it made him a bad person. It didn't. It doesn't," she added, the words directed at Kaden. "But he blamed himself for what he might have done, what he would have been forced to do. I think," she chewed her lip, remembering her conversation with Marcie over Ronan's body, remembering the scars and bruises she'd encountered as she'd run her cloth over his skin, "nobody gave Ronan the chance to be his own person. I think he tried to give Kaden choices where he'd had none."