Noctisardor Bypass Blasé and lucky tonight,

Speaking of Mahler’s desertion reminded Druid of her own decision to leave it all behind, which did not help her sour stomach. She knew she was something of a hypocrite for judging him so harshly, yet he had been a father, a leader, and she had been just a young girl…

She focused on the present, particularly Anselm’s expressions. He looked taken aback, perhaps like he might argue with her. Then he looked uncertain, pensive and, finally, resigned. His eyes closed as she watched, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of saliva.

Yes, he stayed with us a night or two, then he— Druid answered, though she finally lost her fight against the nausea.

She backpedaled quite abruptly, turning her face away from Anselm as her stomach convulsed. She heaved, though there was nothing left in her stomach but bile. Thus she ejected a sticky, yellow mess onto the snowy ground. Druid spat, kicked a clod of grass over the small puddle, then looked up at Anselm.

He left a few days ago, she completed her sentence, as if nothing had happened, I assumed to head back your way. His paws were badly wounded. She paused before wondering aloud, Should we be worried?