Morningside Cuesta this common blood iii

"Sure enough," Easy agreed, mainly to be polite. She could understand the sentiment, at least, even if the exact context of it was a little lost on her. Surely it was better to not grow mold in the first place?

She was dubious, too, about the state of the young man's eyes. It wasn't the most unsightly of deformations, except that it seemed to make him far less slightly. Far more sightly? See double — it made him see double. That had to get in the way of his hunting, didn't it?

"Where is your swamp?" she wondered, thinking, privately, that he ought to be returned to it. She couldn't possibly, of course, with her schedule.

But maybe —

No, absolutely not. Couldn't possible.