Sawtooth Spire gipfel

Mahler didn't reply. Instead, he asked a question Q met with a politely quizzical look. Her brow furrowed gently as she tried to figure out what he might mean. She remembered waking up feeling a little out of sorts about a week ago. She remembered the preceding days, weeks, months. For reasons she couldn't explain to herself, much less to anybody else, Quell didn't even recognize her own paradigm shift. As far as she knew on any meaningful, cerebral level, she had always been the same as she was now: chiefly, a talented young hunter who considered killing small game her life's work.

At length, she shook her head slowly. "No, nothing happened." Quell paused, licked her lips, wondering why he asked. "I'm good. Everything is fine," she stated instead, still looking puzzled even as she shot him a reassuring glance.