Firefly Glen there is no prize to perfection,

We are? Treepie thought to herself, though she let him finish speaking before she said anything. It didn’t escape her notice that he relaxed a little as he introduced himself. Her lips pulled into more of a smile.

Where exactly is your pack located? she queried, nodding and falling into step as he led them deeper into the trees. Does it house many healers or is it just you?

If there were more—if the art was a tenet of Forneskja—then they were well-matched as allies. Treepie wondered if there was already such a partnership in place. Would Cicero know? Perhaps she should ask Alaric first.

The wind gusted suddenly, pushing against their backs and causing Pie’s fur to stand on end, particularly her ruff. She wondered if she should be more worried about the turn in the weather. Floodwaters and mud were one thing, but a severe storm could bring even worse things.

Her eyes suddenly cut back toward the mountain, thinking of Pala and her boys in that crumbling log.