There was a knowing look on Elder Ro’s face. A look that Logan instantly recognized. It was a look of pity. One that suggested to Logan that the Desdemonian elder likely felt at least some amount of sympathy for the young helpless boy whose father had been missing for far too many days. Logan hated pity. But living in a small village on a small planet, with small-minded people living equally small lives, it was unavoidable.

Quick excerpt from chapter two of the novel I’m writing with my son