Dawnlark Plains [m] But you walked by like you never heard

He had bit his cheek and not realized it.

The dancer was gone and Dagur opened his mouth only to cough, to sputter blood into the air. Iron was the taste he was left with.

For how fantasy ridden the encounter seemed, he was left with a piece of reality for it in his mouth. In his gut. While he would not run in a frenzy to find the stranger he knew he could not immediately go home now.

He would roam and — if it was meant to be, so be it.

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