Ravensblood Forest the tree who cried crimson

His chin lifted; he noticed. But he didn’t judge. Finley took his response as a confirmation—not that she needed much else—and the gentle wag of his tail signaled… good intentions? Every day she grew more and more baffled by the light spirits of these killers-to-be. Maybe there was merit to the old adage of strength in numbers.

Finley risked a few steps forward, keeping her focus on the other half of Derg’s face when she met his eyes at all. “Correct,” she said, as if her own status needed further establishment. “Thought I’d get to know fellow recruits.” She wondered if she’d have to pry for further information; how he’d ended up here, for instance. Life with the Saints. His scars. But surely he could volunteer it all if the mood struck him so.