He waits a moment, a skeptical expression on his face. “I really don’t think this…” He scowls, then his eyebrows raise in surprise and pain. “What is this? It’s literally burning me!” He takes the liquor bottle from Anarchaia and chugs it, seeking relief.
The mage howls with laughter, quickly conjuring a cup of cold milk and extending it. “It’s a special sauce made from peppers in Pandaria! And that liquor is only going to make it worse. Drink this.” She covers her mouth to hide her smile. “I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t resist!”
Koltira sneers at the milk, but takes a sip. “It feels like you hate me. I’m pretty sure you hate me.” He continues to sip the milk to dull the pain, even though it is a temporary relief. “I’m not sure I want to play with you anymore,” he says on a laugh.
She chuckles and gives Koltira’s shoulder a playful shove. “I don’t hate you! What fun is Truth or Dare without any pain?”
“You’re going to dare me to my death, I just know it.”
The mage outright laughs at his final comment. “Again? You seem pretty resilient to me.” She takes up the hot sauce bottle and sends it away. “I’ll pick truth, then, since I sense you’re feeling vengeful.”
“Mmm,” he grunts and thinks. “I’m not sure any truth you tell me could make up for that. But…” He taps his index finger to his lips. “Tell me what it was like…with Grim. Best ever or biggest regret?”
Anarchaia flushes and looks away, a palm on her warm cheek. “Well, I wouldn’t necessarily call it…them…mistakes.” She clears her throat and hiccups simultaneously. “But not the best ever, either. Maybe physically, but…there was no love in it. Just…lust. You’re a man, I’m sure you understand.” She reaches for the bottle to inspect what’s left.
Koltira shrugs. “I was never one for emotionless fucking. Sure, I had a few short-lived flings, but never the…” He waves his hand around, indicating the others as he thinks. “I don’t know. Just for the sake of doing it, I suppose. The real fun is in the chase.” He clears his throat and turns to the fire. “Since I don’t fancy more blisters on my tongue, I’ll go with truth.”
The mage takes a long, thoughtful drink, humming a laugh as she does so. “How many?” she asks as she pulls the bottle away and covers her mouth with the back of her wrist as she swallows.
He chuckles. “If you’re hoping for an impressive number, I’m sorry to disappoint you. Seven, including Alisbeth.” He holds out his hand for the liquor. “Your turn.” He ignores his tongue growing heavier in his mouth and tries to appear more sober than he’s coming to realize he is.
“I didn’t have any precon—hic!—ceptions.” Anarchaia hmms as she hands over the liquor. Deciding this is more of a drunken, get-to-know-you session than anything, she says “Truth. At least until you forget about the hot sauce.” She smiles, eyeing his behavior to gauge his level of intoxication.
He smacks his lips and narrows his eyes at her. “How do you really feel about Ali and me. Individually. Like, separate…and things.” Koltira’s eyes slide sideways as he takes a good sized swig. Real smooth, jackass.
Anarchaia turns her head fully to look at him, not having expected the question. “U-Uhh… Well, you’re both very cute.” She reaches over to pinch his cheek and chortle. “I like Ali for her…strange way of caring. She’s unpredictable, and while it’s stressful I kind of thrive on that. She seems like a good person to have around in a fight. And a loyal friend.” She leans back on her hands and grins at him. “And you…I feel like we get along better than two people who’ve just met one another normally would. You’re level headed but still fun to be around and talk with.” She tilts her head and chuckles. “But that’s just my opinion…or the alcohol’s.”
He nods. “I’ll accept it, I suppose.” He groans. “I’m going to regret this. I know I am…” Koltira hangs his head and sighs. “Dare.”
Anarchaia chews on her thoughts for a long moment before suddenly reaching behind herself and grasping the strings tying her shirt together. “Switch shirts with me.”
Koltira laughs. “There is no way I’ll fit into yours, unless you let me wear it as a necklash—necklace.” He clears his throat over the slur and smiles innocently.
“It’s sleeveless and ties in the back. I’ll make it fit.” Anarchaia turns away to unbutton the button at her collar bone. She pulls the garment from her body and covers herself with an arm, shivering at the sudden chill. “You better be taking it off back there.”
Koltira rubs his face. He stares at her bare back for a moment, eyes tracing the line of her spine, then obediently pulls his shirt over his head. “Here.” He tosses his shirt at her, keeping his eyes on the fire.
The mage exchanges the articles and turns away again to throw the shirt over her head. She laughs at the size difference. “Oh, this is muchwarmer. Here, allow me.” She titters and pulls her own shirt tightly around his torso, then struggles with the ties. She pats him once on the back when she’s finally successful in tying them. “There! Painless, right?”
He sneers down at the shirt. “This…isn’t even a shirt, Ana…”
She laughs. Then, like flipping a switch, turns grave. “Are you questioning my fashion sense?” she responds darkly, as though he’d just threatened to destroy something she loves.
He turns his disgruntled grimace on her. “I’m absolutely questioning why you would wear a tube of cloth with strings on it. This…This is nonsense!” He purses his lips and squeezes his pectorals together. “Does it look better with breasts?”
Anarchaia gasps and leans away from him, palm spread over her chest. “How dare you.” She thrusts her nose into the air and folds her arms. “Good luck getting this back, now. Enjoy your new shirt.”
“I would rather go shirtless, dearie. But you dared me to wear–how long am I wearing this?” He investigates the fabric. “This is really soft, I’ll admit that.”
Anarchaia looks over the tear in the shoulder of his shirt. “Until my feelings aren’t hurt anymore,” she responds with an indignant pout, running a finger over the rip to seal it shut. “Or you dare me to trade back. Whichever comes first.”
Koltira grumbles, though his fingers continue to stroke the soft fabric at his stomach. “Well then I dare you to give me my shirt back.”
“Ah, ah, ah,” she waggles a finger at him from beneath the long sleeve of his shirt and grins impishly. “I choose t-truth.” She hiccups into the back of the same hand. “And you don’t need to keep mine on but I’m keeping yours. It’s cozy.”
Koltira reaches behind to pull at the threading. “Have you ever been with—dammit! I can’t get it off.” He deflates and glares at the shirt, then sends a pout Anarchaia’s way.
She pauses while watching him, then lifts her eyebrows. “Oh? You wanted help?” A chuckle escapes her and she pulls the tie free in one swift motion. “Better? Now what were you saying?”
He slings the cloth over his shoulder to keep it out of the mud. “Have you ever been with a woman?”
“No, but I’m not opposed to the idea. I’ve seen plenty of attractive women.” Anarchaia, with gloved and sleeved hands, picks up the bottle again to drink, being extra careful not to dribble on the shirt that doesn’t belong to her. “Your turn.”
The death knight smirks at her. “Before I end up in your trousers, I choose truth as well.”
She leans over to look at the thickness of his legs and gives a solemn shake of her head. “Mm. No. You wouldn’t fit.” The mage takes another drink and sets the bottle between them. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else.”
He sighs and looks away, focusing on the fire for a long moment of silence. “I’ve always been very honest with Alisbeth, but I can’t bring myself to speak of what happened in Undercity. I was gone for four years, Ana. So, I’m sorry, but, the only thing I haven’t told anyone is something I can’t bring myself to say. And when I do, Ali will be the first to know.”
Anarchaia turns to give him a reassuring smile. “Oh…right. I’d forgotten.” She rests a hand on his back in an attempt to be comforting. “Sorry. No worries. You get a freebie. Heh.” After a moment she clears her throat. “You can have your shirt back,” she says, grasping the hem.
Koltira purses his lips. “Ana, please don’t give me freebies or…pity…or…just keep treating me as you have. Please. You’re being such a good friend and I just…want it to stay that way.”
She stops and stares at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. “I’m…I’m sorry? I will…won’t…” She shakes her head and lowers the hem again. “What is it you want? I can’t not be nice… That would make me a bad friend.”
He sets a hand on hers. “Keep being nice, but don’t let my demons change anything. We were having fun, but my past ruined it. Please, let’s continue.” Koltira gives her a warm smile.
Anarchaia blinks, recovering from the blunder. After a moment she returns the grin, momentarily forgetting about the shirt. “All right. Your darkest fantasy, then.”
Koltira grins devilishly. “Sexual or just twisted?”
She shrugs. “Whichever’s darker?”
He shrugs. “I often fantasize about killing every man who has laid their hands on Alisbeth. Your friend, especially.” The confession doesn’t faze him in the least. “Is the bottle empty?” He asks, pointing at it.
“N-No…” She slowly hands him the bottle, her smile having faded. “Please don’t kill Grim,” she responds quietly. “I know he’s an ass, but…” A beat passes and she chuckles. “Ass butt.”
He chuckles then takes a drink. “I won’t. Ali would be furious if I did. Especially Grimory, I think. He entertains her. She’d never forgive me for taking her play-thing.” He takes another drink, finishing off the bottle, then hands it to Anarchaia. “Looks like we need another. And it’s your turn.”
Instead of sending the bottle away, she tosses it into the fire to watch the glass as it scorches and blackens. She conjures another, this time a bottle of red wine. “Truth,” she says, not yet ready to give up the shirt despite offering to do so only moments before. She takes a small sip of the alcohol as not to spill, barely savoring it.
Koltira chews on his bottom lip as he thinks, then he smiles slyly. “Tell me how you really feel about your pal. The amount of panic you displayed when I mentioned killing him says more than you have. So, what’s the truth?”
Anarchaia purses her lips and sets the wine beside her. “He’s still a good friend to me.” Her jaw clenches and she looks into the fire at the discarded bottle. “He’s cute. And…he cares. A lot.” She hesitates, touching the tips of her fingers together through the sleeves of Koltira’s shirt. “Every time we…you know…he was so worried about offending me.” She smiles at the memories. “I’d be pretty distraught if anything were to happen to him.”
Koltira nods as he processes this. “Just friends, as you said. But what I don’t get is the jealousy. May I?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, taking the bottle and drinking, then sets it back beside the mage. “The absolute anger he had at the idea of you and I hooking up was… Come on. You can’t deny that something deeper could exist. Maybe not now, but…”
Anarchaia turns to him, lips parted slightly as she blinks. “He was angry about that?” She frowns. “Yet he…with Alisbeth.” She scoffs and turns back to the flames, as she takes a drink. “Perhaps on his end. We haven’t known one another long enough for me to…” She swallows a hiccup, “feel that way.”
He shrugs and tosses a casual arm over her shoulders. “Perhaps he’s just territorial, I guess. He can have you, he can have Ali, he can play with you like little dolls and compare your, uh…performances… But gods forbid anyone gets close to you. If he knew you wouldn’t light him on fire, I’m sure he’d piss on your feet to mark you.”
Her scowl darkens. “You’re right. He doesn’t deserve my affection.” She downs another large mouthful and sets the bottle down. “I may as well save it for someone who actually cares about me.”
Without removing his arm from her shoulders he grabs up the bottle with his other hand to take a drink. “Got anyone in mind? Sweet girl like you has to have at least ten, right?” He snorts a laugh, betraying his level of intoxication. “Hell if I was single…”
She flushes and gives an awkward laugh. “N-No. Heh. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend. And that was before.” She sobers some. “And the only person I really like doesn’t feel the same. So the search continues. Heh.”
His smile is kind as he studies her, then turns back to the fire. “You’ve got some time, now. So…one boyfriend. But how many…?”
She blinks. “…‘Partners’? Three. Less impressive than you.” She chuckles.
He feigns insult. “How is seven impressive? I’ve got two hundred years on you, girlie. And I was adventurous in the century before my adulthood. Is that really so wrong?” He smiles and musses up where her hair would be if her mask wasn’t on.
“It’s still more than twice mine. But by averages, I suppose I’m beating you.” She chortles as her head is pat.
“What about Grimory? Do you know his number? Will it make me want to wash the filth from myself until my skin is raw?”
She grimaces. “Yeeeeah… it’s up there. I think he told me something in the seventies?” She shrugs. “But even he doesn’t know.”
Koltira shudders. “That’s very busy. But I mean, if you’re in it for nothing more than the sex…” He shakes his head and takes the bottle to swig from it. “Hey, weren’t we playing a game?”
“Oh! Yes! Truth or dare, Mr. Death Knight?” Anarchaia snatches the bottle from him to drink as well.
He laughs. “I have no idea. Do you have a coin we can flip? Heads truth, tails dare.”
“My belt is in the tent,” she responds. “And I’d really rather not go in there right now. If you’d like I can choose for you.”
He grimaces, closing his eyes and leaning back as he sucks a breath through his teeth. “Tonight is just full of things I end up regretting. Okay. You choose for me.”
“It’s your funeral,” she chuckles. “I dare you to…” Anarchaia bites her lips. “Get on your hands and knees and do your best impression of a dog.” She smirks, bringing her fingers to her mouth to chew on the tip of one.
Koltira gapes for a moment before giving a devilish smile. He gets on his hands and knees and presses his face into Anarchaia’s. “Hi, my name is Grimory. Wanna see my little demon?”
Anarchaia does nothing to contain her laughter. She pushes a palm into Koltira’s cheek and wraps her other arm around her diaphragm. “Oh come on! That was totally uf-haha!-unfair!” She wipes at her good eye, still giggling uncontrollably. “Ugh…hahaha. You win.”
Koltira sits back, a triumphant smile on his face. “What do I win?”
Anarchaia inhales, regaining her composure yet continuing to giggle. “Anything. Name it. It’s yours.” She takes another drink before planting the bottle firmly in the grass.
He scratches his head and thinks. “I’ll have to get back to you on that. Unless you have any good ideas.” He drops back to sitting beside her and takes the bottle, downing a few gulps before returning it to the grass.
The mage taps her chin as she thinks. “Hm. Not in particular. I could do your bidding for a week. Call you My Liege. Build your likeness out of ice.” She smiles and shrugs.
He cringes. “Thank you, but I think I’ll pass on that.” He chuckles and nudges her with his elbow. “What would you want if you had won?”
Anarchaia raises her eyebrows, her smile growing coy. She tilts her head. “That’s a curious question. What do you think I’d ask for?”
He shrugs. “More alcohol. Me to apologize to Grimory. Everything you just said I could ask for. I don’t know!”
“Pfft,” she scoffs. “I wouldn’t ask you to apologize to him. It sounds like he had it coming.” She picks up the bottle and examines the inside. “No, I’d just ask for a kiss or something.” Anarchaia eyes him warily, waiting for the reaction she’s looking for.
Koltira coughs and blinks at her. “From me? Or just in general?”
Anarchaia cocks her head. “Mmmmmmaybe?”
He narrows his eyes in confusion. “I’m just going to…” He takes the wine from her hand and swallows several gulps. He hands it back and stares at the fire as he rubs at his nose which has darkened from drink. “So how long, do you think, until sunrise?”
Anarchaia physically flinches the moment she sees her attempt at a joke crash and burn. She grits her teeth in an attempt to make words but fails. He thought you were serious! What the hell is wrong with you?! A small croak escapes her throat and she sighs, giving up on trying to save herself. She casts a glance to the sky. “A couple hours at most.”
Smooth, jackass. Koltira sighs. “Ana that came out all wrong and it’s not that I wouldn’t… I mean you’re… I guess I look like an asshole now. I take myself too seriously.” He sets a hand on her shoulder. “Still friends, though, right?”
Anarchaia inhales quickly, waving her hands. “No no no,” she chirps, flustered and embarrassed that he’d caught on. “I-It was a joke. I failed on the execution. I’m not a home-wrecker or something like that. I would never. B-But not that I wouldn’t…either…” She cringes and balls her fists then throws them into her lap. “Yes. Still friends.” She forces a smile. “If not painfully so.”
“Wait, no, I wasn’t implying you’re a home-wrecker! No! I’m just… You know what?” He growls and rubs his palms down his face.
“I didn’t…” Anarchaia stops herself and purses her lips, then pulls her mask back over her face. After a moment she chuckles. “I’m so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, Ana. That’s what I’d like for my win, you not apologizing to me.” He takes her chin in his fingertips and turns her to face him, his eyes staring where hers lie behind the mask. “You did nothing wrong, okay?”
Anarchaia hesitates. Her fists clench tighter in her lap. She swallows before finally whispering, “I’m sorry.”
Koltira throws himself dramatically sideways and grunts. “You’re killing me.” He picks her shirt from where it flopped onto his head and holds it out. “Your shirt, by the way.”
“I’m so—!” Anarchaia throws her hands over her own mouth and sighs through her fingers. She silently takes her shirt back and gives a sheepish grin. “Thanks. Heh.” She turns away and pulls off his shirt, then buttons her own back to her collar. She hands his article back as she ties her own.
“You didn’t have to… You know what? Never mind. Thank you.” He pulls his shirt on, dragging his long hair out through the collar. He sits in the awkward silence for a minute, then looks over at Anarchaia. “So, any ideas for fun now? I’ll admit I am a little drunk. I wouldn’t mind being more drunker.” He chuckles at himself. “Who knows, maybe if you beg me I might let you kiss me.” He winks slyly at her.
She fumbles with the strings at her back. “Damned gloves.” Her smile brightens at the aspect of more alcohol. “Absolutely! Just let me…tie…this…” She curses under her breath when she releases the strings and they fall loose. After glancing into the tent a few yards away, she unbuttons her gloves, pushes up her mask again, and pulls them off with her teeth. She ties her shirt. “‘E cohd con’inoo ah ‘ame,” she says, a glove still in her mouth.
Koltira blinks, then blinks again in rapid succession. “I really hope that glove tastes wonderful, I do. But I can’t understand a word you are saying.” He eyes her hands fidgeting with the strings. “And by the way, I’m not completely incompetent, I can help you with that, if you’d like.”
She slides her gloves back on when finished. “I said ‘be careful, you sound like Grim.’” A chuckle escapes her and she takes up the wine again. “And I’m not completely incompetent, either, mister. Overly apologetic, but not incompetent.” She drinks. “Also, we can continue our old game or start a new one. Guest’s choice.” She offers the bottle.
He takes the bottle, his eyes narrowed. “Like Grim, huh? All right. That whole subject is gone, all right? So keep your mask on and stop gawking at me.” He takes a long drink. “I know a good drinking game, but it’s better with more people.” Koltira sighs. “Drinking in the middle of the woods is less fun than I’d anticipated.”
“No promises,” Anarchaia chuckles when he mentions gawking. “And drinking with only two people is less fun as well.” She conjures another full bottle of liquor instead of asking him to pass the other. “And your game could be fun despite it just being us. What is it?”
“Have you ever played I never?”
Anarchaia nods enthusiastically. “My life hasn’t been too crazy, so I generally win.” She laughs. “Although that was twenty years ago, so…”
“Well, then, I think it’s time you update that list of nevers.” He smirks. “I’ll start.” Koltira thinks as he rubs the pad of his thumb on the mouth of the bottle. “I’ve never been to Stormwind.”
Anarchaia purses her lips and opens the new bottle, then takes a begrudging gulp. She swallows and narrows her eyes. “Well I’ve never been to Silvermoon.”
Koltira chuckles and takes a swig. “You really should, it’s beautiful. I never sought revenge for my murder.” He gives her a sly wink.
“I’ve heard great things about it, yes.” She blinks and straightens. “I-I mean…I didn’t either. They were all killed while I was dead. Does dreaming about it count?”
He chews on his lower lip. “We’ll say yes.”
“Fffffffine.” Anarchaia takes another reluctant drink and smiles. “I’ve never lain with a woman,” she says with a haughty attitude.
Koltira rolls his eyes and drinks. “Well, I’ve never lain with a man.”
The mage does the same, the spirit of competition welling within her. “I’ve never…killed anyone.”
Koltira shakes his head and makes a mocking face. He takes a drink. “I never used magic.”
Anarchaia cocks her head suspiciously. “You mean to tell me all that frosty, floaty, dome-y B.S. isn’t magic?”
He shrugs. “I’ve never considered it magic.”
She places a palm on her chest. “While I happen to know the answer, I’ll give it to you anyway.” She takes a drink and closes her eyes as she swallows, her head spinning. “I’ve never…” She taps her chin with a finger. “Ridden a horse.”
Koltira laughs. “You can’t be serious.” He takes his drink. “You’ve really never ridden a horse? How can you not ride a horse in forty years? That’s just… Have you ever ridden anything?”
She purses her lips again and shrinks. “I was kicked by one when I was eight. Broke five of my ribs and my arm. I don’t do horses. And I don’t like flying, either. I teleport or walk everywhere.”
He blinks. “That sounds tedious.” He shakes his head. “All right. I’ve never… Do you have any idea how hard this is at my age?” He laughs and drinks anyway. “I never cheated on a partner.” He makes a face, acknowledging the lameness of his statement.
“Should I start calling you Old Man?” Anarchaia plugs her bottle with a thumb. “I’ve only had one actual partner and I never cheated on him.” She sticks out her tongue briefly. “I’ve never…loosed an arrow.”
Koltira sneers playfully at her and takes a drink. “Just don’t make me drink for all of them. I never counted.” He narrows his eyes, gauging her. “I never…lived in Dalaran. Oh gods, I’m sorry, I’m drawing a lot of blanks.”
Anarchaia snerks and takes her drink. “You suggested a game you’re bad at?” She stifles a hiccup into her wrist. “I’ve never danced.”
He claps once and smiles. “Ha! I’ve never danced either.” He drinks anyway and breaks down laughing. “And don’t judge me! We used to play this game with more than one other person. I’m not bad at it, I’m just… Okay, being completely honest I always got out of asking the questions, so Faltora had to take my turn.” He shrugs innocently. “Got any other games you want to play or should we start sobering up before the dog starts whining to be let out?” He grins.
The Forsaken girl chuckles and recorks her bottle, sending it away. “Probably best to sober up, lest something happen on our way to Talonrest. Feel free to finish your bottle, though.” She pulls her mask back down. “You didn’t dance at your wedding? Was it that brief?”
He shakes his head. “It was very short. And not enough people for an actual party. What about you? How have you never danced?”
“Don’t need a party to dance.” Anarchaia shrugs and smiles. “I’ve never been asked.” She pauses for a moment. “Well. That’s a lie. I have been asked. I just never accept the proposals. I’d hate to make a fool of myself. Heh.”
“Dance with Alisbeth,” Koltira says. “She won’t care if you’re good or bad, she’ll love it either way. She’s good, though. Makes her a good fighter.”
The mage laughs and stretches her arms above her head. “Yeah, no thanks. Unless she asks, of course. I can’t seem to say no to her.” She smiles beneath her mask. “As far as combat goes, I did spend two years training under a Pandaren monk. That’s kind of like dancing. Felt like it, anyway.”
“Combat is like a violent dance, she says.” He offers her the wine. “So, a monk? Interesting. What was that like?”
Anarchaia hesitates before declining the drink. “I suppose she’s not wrong. And it was very enlightening. The concept of Chi is extremely fascinating. It really helped me in the ways of conserving my mana and using it more efficiently.” She waves her hands and wrists in a manner not unlike water. “Was fun. Master Wulong was a sweetheart.”
He holds out the bottle again and rubs his eyes. “Sober. Right. Put this up.”
Anarchaia chuckles and takes the liquor. “Well I’ve lost the cork, so… Hope this doesn’t spill.” The bottle disappears and she shrugs. “Can’t get kitchen duty if I’m on an assignment.” She casts another glance at the fading stars and stands to stretch more, stumbling as the remaining alcohol in her veins rushes to her head. “I guess it’s time to wake the dog.”
Koltira laughs. “If you’re open to suggestions, I recommend cold water.” He pushes to stand, but gives up when he wobbles. “Maybe we should take a little more time to sober, first. No rush waking him.”
Anarchaia places her hands on her hips and does her best to stand still. “Perhaps we need some cold water. Shall I call Flayke again? I’m sure he’d love to oblige.” She chuckles.
Koltira’s eyes go wide. “Has Grim met Flayke?”
She scoffs. “Yes. They get along fantastically, to my dismay.” She kicks some grass into the fire, but soon after wobbles and falls onto her backside with a grunt, then chortles.
“Damn.” Koltira scoffs. “I would have loved to see you summon him inside the tent.” He reaches out, joining in her laughter. “Is your ass okay? Do you need help?”
“He’d have just blasted me again,” she laughs, choosing instead to stay sitting and politely waving her hand. “You can’t provide the help I require,” she quips, drawing circles in the air beside her head with a finger and sticking her tongue out beneath her mask. “But thank you. My ass is fine.”
“You’re not crazy. Trust me. I have a little experience in the subject.” He purses his lips. “I have an idea to get him up… I don’t do it, well…ever. But just say the word.”
Anarchaia tilts her head and grins. “Oh? You won’t hear any protests from me…”
Koltira smiles like a devil and motions to the middle of the field. The ground crumbles, providing a hole for a hand to burst from. With some effort, a ghoul climbs from the earth and approaches. “Err?”
“Go wake up our friend in the tent, please.”
The ghoul blinks and cocks its head. “Err!” It walks past him and shoves its way into the tent.
Anarchaia grimaces at the sight of the creature but otherwise smiles as her attention follows him to the tent. “It’s not gonna hurt him, is it?”
“I’m really not worried about Grim’s reaction.”
“What the actual shit?” Alisbeth screams.