""What kind of ending is that?” Kaladin said. “The dog decides he’s a failure?”
“Endings are an art,” Wit said loftily. “A precise and unquestionable art, bridgeman. Yes, that is the ending.”
“Why did you tell me this?” Kaladin demanded.
“You asked for a story.”
“I wanted a useful story!” he said, waving his hand. “Like the story of the emperor on the island, or of Fleet who kept running.”
“You didn’t specify that,” Wit said. “You said you wanted a story. I provided one. That is all.”
“That’s the wrong ending,” Kaladin said. “That dog was incredible. He learned to write. How many animals can write, on any world?”
“Not many, I should say,” Wit noted.
“He learned to farm and to use tools,” Kaladin said. “He saved a child’s life. That dog is a storming hero.”
“The story wasn’t about him trying to be a hero,” Wit said. “It was about him trying to be a dragon. In which, pointedly, he failed.”
“I told you!” Design said happily. “Dogs can’t be dragons!”
“Who cares?” Kaladin said, stalking back and forth. “By looking up at the dragon, and by trying to become better, he outgrew the other dogs. He achieved something truly special.” Kaladin stopped, then narrowed his eyes at Wit, feeling his anger turn to annoyance. “This story is about me, isn’t it? I said I’m not good enough. You think I have impossible goals, and I’m intentionally ignoring the things I’ve accomplished.”
Wit pointed with his spoon. “I told you this story has no meaning. You promised not to assign it one.”"