Grouse Thicket maybe i'm not listening

rannveig was skeptic still as he watched dashiell, stifling a quiet laugh as the drunken beast fell upon an equally drunken bird. curses or not, rannveig did not believe he was partaking.

had rannveig not suspected there was poison in those apples, he might have assisted in dispatching the grouse -- but he liked existing, kind of, and as much as he liked to flaunt his daredevil charm, was not about to willingly place himself in the same state of -- whatever it was --that plagued dashiell.

"you... you should sit down. maybe drink water or something?" rannveig finally declared, stepping away from the rotted apples. "there's a creek over there, i think. unless you think the water is cursed too, and then you are really fucked."