Larksong Grotto Send in the Clowns

More words spilled out of him that didn’t make sense to Masquerade. They desperately wanted to understand.

I’m not following, they tried to interject, though Ancelin didn’t seem ready or willing to press pause and elucidate.

Ignoring his sudden, inexplicable demands—as well as the urge to remind him they had never left, either—Masquerade gritted their teeth and planted their feet.

What do you mean, Ancelin? Help me understand what you’re saying.

Instead, he began marking the foliage. He was like a man possessed. Masque’s head began to spin, perhaps even worse than the day Avicus had said she was leaving the rise.

And then a bolt of pain pulsed through it like an electric shock, causing Masquerade to cry out. Wincing, they had no choice but to retreat, else they feared their cousin might attack their weakness.