Swiftcurrent Creek gratitude's got a short half-life, clarice

“”

At length, she glided into view, as much a honey-cloaked succubus now as she had been before. He did not deny her beauty, which had only intensified since last they spoke, and dipped his head in brief respect of her new position. “ Lethe,” Lecter grunted. “ I see Atka has blessed you.”

He knew not how the Mother had worked in Lethe's existence, nor did he care about the workings of Atka. But he was admiring of the land that the White Bear had seen fit to grant Lethe.

There was little of their former animosity in this conversation; he did not sense it from her. “ My daughter, Clarice,” he muttered, though he did not attempt to veil the pride he had vested in the silken little witch. “ We have traveled far; we seek succor in a place of familiarity.”

But she was of Shearwater, and he had not scented Jinx, or any of of the scattered Bon Dye. If he was to be truthful, however, Lecter had not searched for them, for failing in such a quest would have shattered his heart; searching but never finding the Kesuk. And so, setting himself, Lecter tipped back his crown and let a dirge flow into the cold air, summoning Lethe.