Noctisardor Bypass Life, Death, Religion, Survival

Before he knew it Druid was down, her scream richocheting through the wasteland of his brainpan. His eyes were wide and wild, and he reeled backwards as soon as the hit landed, bracing for Druid's assault which he fully anticipated. Instead there was a deftly moving shadow and two bright eyes staring him down. Fiona.

Her demands to back off weren't heard. Glaukos was snorting and pacing as he backed off, so the eclipse of his shadow relented and gave the women the space they needed.

I was defending myself, he spat back to her, not that it would matter. It was Anselm all over again! No matter his intentions these people were determined to see him as the bad guy, and Glaukos had to accept there was nothing he could do.

If space was what Druid needed now, fine. She could have all the space in the wilds; he was done putting forth the effort to care for someone who clearly held such a low regard for him and his work.

Anselm's attitude was one thing, but the total betrayal of Druid in this moment completely shattered him. Glaukos would not linger—he would turn and stalk off to the other side of the bypass and keep away from every ungrateful asshole who had taken advantage of his charity.