"Whoopee-dee-doo..." murmured Isa, face still covered.
He heaved a very long sigh. Then another. Eventually, when he stood up he felt tired. Tired and helpless. Everything hurt with the kind of hurt that wasn't physical. And he walked into the other room and stared at his work with a sense of loss that was completely out of context.
Wolf gingerly walked in to check up on him only to find Isa glaring at the same piece of steel as the last time he'd walked into the room, eyes glimmering in the open fire.
When Tobalt came back, Isa resumed his work, but didn't say a word about his earlier guest. Eventually, Wolf stopped asking, Tobalt never knew and Isa was left to his own devices.
And guilt reigned supreme.