<You're just going to leave her there with Ossanlin's tail blade at her throat?> Tara demands.
<Yes,> Myitt replies curtly, pushing through the trees. <She is not my responsibility. I've made up my mind.>
Tara falls silent, mulling over the whole situation...the girl had tried to kill Myitt, maybe would have killed them both. But she hadn't gone through with it...
<You think that's supposed to make me feel sympathy for that wreck of a creature?> Myitt asks testily. <She can't live with us, she can hardly live anywhere but the Empire, she's been so badly brainwashed. I know.> She walks on in silence, hopping over a fallen log. <Perhaps death would be a merciful thing for her.>
<And you've just washed your hands of it. Great. I'm so proud of you.>
<You want me to march back there and shoot her with your hands?> Myitt snaps back.
<No! I mean...I don't know!> Tara cries.
<Then stop. Stop judging my inaction as not caring.>
---
Mike blinks. "Well, Efaen, you can rest assure that the feeling isn't mutual," he replies. "Just tell her, if she isn't listening, she can go ahead and continue to be a bloody great git all she wants. If she'd prefer Imperial imprisonment over a nice stay at our fantastically dismal underground resort, then so be it, but we won't let her take you with her."