Looking up from Brother Vernasus, Morr spotted the girl that left a trail of dirt in her wake, all the while... quacking? heartily. He supposed in the works of the bards his reaction would be deemed 'cliché', but he could not help but be reminded of his own daughter, the one whose growing he had seen so little of while he was out doing what he had perceived as making the world a better place.<br/><br/>An ache, different from the one in his stomach, was what he felt when he looked at that girl, regret, yes, but also a reminder: He did not see someone to protect as his purpose would demand, rather he simply saw...<br/><br/>Flesh. Exchangable flesh that would grow, then wither and die, if not killed much earlier before that, which would spawn more flesh. He so very wanted to curse himself for thinking like this, but alas, he simply felt a weariness that he could not get rid off. Certainly, he would protect this child if she was in danger, but he simply could no longer feel the wish to do so.<br/><br/>In answer to this, Morr could have only said: I hate myself.