Blackfeather Woods Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places

Ramsay wasn't completely oblivious to the decline in Titmouse's mood, but it was made plain when the man parted his jaws in a silent snarl. Taken aback a little, the dwarf took a step back, allowing the smile to dim from his features, though the mirth remained in his eyes. Was it something he said? He dialed back a moment, then started. Ah, of course. He'd been misunderstood.

Ah, Mou, relaaax, Ramsay implored with none of the laughter he'd previously had, padding forward as if to follow. I meant only in general. My apologies if I upset you. If Titmouse's eye colour was darker, then maybe he could be forgiven for not making mention, but with how vivid the remaining one was, it was impossible not to notice. Ramsay meant the infinitive you, but hadn't been very specific, and anyway, formal though his manner of speaking tended, he was still a yearling who occasionally bungled it up.

Will you tell me how you lost it? he asked, somehow suspecting from Mou's previous reaction that the answer would be no, which he would respect.