He kicked out the dam once the blood was gone from her skin and let it wash back out to the larger body of water. Carson remained silent for a while, just watching the sun sparkle off the wavelets, the breeze stir the leaves of a nearby tree. He considered simply refusing to answer. The story wasn't a happy one, and more negativity might be the opposite of welcome right now. He rested his head on the head of his hatchet as he thought it over, thumb stroking the darkened steel. "I was born into the life," he finally said. "My parents were both Striders. They met in Safeco--that's a town hundreds of miles from here, in the ruins of a city that used to be called Seattle. They met, they had me, and then they spent the next fourteen years wishing they hadn't.<br/><br/>"Not because they didn't care. They did, to the best of their ability. But because a child is a liability to a Strider. Either you're guilty because you have to leave it behind, or you're guilty because you have to take it with you. Either way, I learned quick. I had to. How to fight, how to hide, where to look for what sort of needs. When I was fifteen my father died, and I decided to take up his protection ring. He had five towns that called him their own, but I was... inexperienced. New. Fresh. I lost every single one of them to raiders. Even Safeco, in the end." He went silent again, his mind inadvertently turning back to that night.<br/><br/><i>Exhaustion. Fear. Screams--</i>no. No. He pushed it back down and straightened, removing his hand from the axe head. "To give you a shorter answer, I've been a Strider in spirit since I was born. I kept up the lifestyle because... people need hope, Malia. People need us to show them the way until they can find the strength to learn it for themselves. Someday they'll stop resenting us and begin following us. Someday they'll stop being afraid and tired and beaten and surge back against the evil that surrounds them. I believe that. I have to. What else would I be doing this for?"