"Our papa is dead," the boy said flatly. "It happened somewhere north of Alin. Everyone who goes out there dies."
There was a knowledge of this in the boy's eyes that caused Niles to go cold inside, to feel that someone had walked across his grave. In the same breath, something in the boy's pattern of speech caused part of Niles' mind to recognise that "out there" was the common view of all that lay north and east and west outside Alin, and that "out there" meant many things to the people of Alin: death, the unknown, loss, impending doom; the helpless feeling of dealing with nightstalking predators that preyed upon people and farm animals alike; the bogeyman; the bitter, quiescent malice of the coming winter, and the inability of simple homespun to keep out the chill. "Out there" meant all these things together, and much more, to the people of Alin.
In a single instant, Niles saw it all in the boy's eyes- all the hatred, the dread, the fear, the unbearable loss. There was an implicit accusation in the boy's eyes as well that struck at Nile's heart like a rapier-thrust. It spoke of the failure of adults to keep their promise to love and protect and come back to their children.