Strider turned to Moonfang, clicking and whistling in a low voice. Despite his previous encouraging words, now he just sounds...tired. Worn out. Sad.
"He is too far away. I should have gone after him while I still could...but I would have had to fight him, then, since he disobeyed me. As I will if I see him again.
...now, if we chase after Char, we will put more Hunters at risk. I have seen it many times in my life. A young Hunter must choose his own place in this world, after all. Some alongside his clan...others go apart. Some the path of the Eggmaker, others the Slayer and Meatbringer. The path of anger, the path of wisdom, the path of love. All have their place in the circle.
If you care about his life, then hope he returns to us, wiser and stronger."
What Strider didn't say was that they almost never returned.
Yes-occasionally a young and brave Hunter would accomplish an amazing feat on his own. Mostly they would never be found again, with no one to sing their death calls. And if Char was not dead, he could not be mourned. His loss would fester for years-a hole in the Clans hunting pack, one that might never be filled. That was the long view, and it was how Strider dealt with loss these days-he minimized it, sanitized it, made just another tick on some imaginary board. Some part of Strider coldly said 'It's for the best then, if he dies'-another part said 'You must save him! He's one of your clanmates!'
Strider shook away the voices and continued to move the meat.