Dragoncrest Cliffs We can hear when we are hollow

He didn't know why he expected anything but a long-winded explanation, but it was difficult for Ephraim not to want to roll his eyes as she went on and on about it, alluding to things he didn't know anything about. He felt impolite, being so impatient with Aure's manner of speaking, but it was just part of who he was now. His patience was worn thin by stress. It happened to the best of wolves, and no matter what Ephraim thought or how he presented himself, he was very much still a kid on the verge of a mental breakdown. He didn't have the time or attention span for these kinds of long, philosophical discussions.

So he did his very best to listen, but a lot of it went over his head. She and her brother had been desecrated? Her brother had almost died? What did Vercingetorix have to with any of this, and why was it only every other night? It was all too confusing and convoluted for him. By the time she finished his face had darkened into the lax thousand yard stare of an art student in a lecture about the reproductive habits of damselflies.

It took several seconds, therefore, from the moment Aure finished to Ephraim acknowledging her in any way, which surely made him look like a slack-jawed buffoon. Huh, interesting, he said unconvincingly, though he winced a little when he realized that his disinterest might come across as insulting. He definitely wasn't cut out to be a Skayona if this was the kind of stock from which most naturalists sprang. He could never care that much about the stars or anything inanimate and unliving. What does Verx have to do with any of that?