What the Whelp Chewed

Level 5 felt less like glory than like a door that had been shut and was now, stubbornly, open. He flexed his fingers around the chewed haft. He rolled one shoulder under the stiff vest. Both answered. Below the shelf, Coldridge Valley went on being cold and full of things that had not heard of him. He tried to lift a coal with two sticks, failed, laughed once, a raw sound, and started down toward the place where the valley narrowed into a pass.

Behind him, the borrowed axe kept its lean against the rock. He did not go back for it. Some promises are kept by leaving the thing where the next cold pair of hands can find it.