Tove managed, somehow, to sprawl in the chair across from Ambrosine’s desk. “I just hate leaving you right now.” 

Ambrosine snorted softly. “I’m fine, just off field duty. Unless someone comes crawling in on death’s door–again–I can handle anything here. Jin’s on hand and if I need anything major, I’ll call in Mina. Riathan is an easy patient next to the likes to Cap. Go frolic through the jungles, Tove.”

“Frolic,” the ranger said, making a gagging noise. “Yes, that’s just what I’ll be doing.” Tove would rather visit her mother for an entire week than go seek out the druidic spirits, that’s how much she hated Maguuma. 

She paused and eyed Ambrosine carefully. “So why are you off field duty, anyway?”

Ambrosine jabbed her pen in Tove’s direction. “Medical reasons.”

Tove swung her legs back over the arm of the chair and planted them on the floor. She then leaned forward, rested her elbows on the desk and propped her head up in her hands. And just…stared at Ambrosine.

“So I have suspicions, but I also have questions, if I’m right.”

“And the answers are for me to know and for you to never find out.”

“Mmm,” Tove said, raising an eyebrow. “Right, well, sooner is better than later, then.” She rapped on the desk and hopped up. “See you when I get back.”

——–

Tove stood on the ridge overlook the jungle and moaned. “I hate this. This is the worst.” The two wyverns cavorting about her seemed fine with the idea, however, which just made her scowl. “No sympathy from you two. I see how it is.”

“They are natives to this climate. It makes sense that they would welcome a return.” 

Miss Alert to Her Surroundings Ranger jerked and spun around. “Rikvi! What the hell are you doing here, woman?”

“Accompanying you.” The tall, broad Norn stopped to her left and gazed across the jungle dispassionately. 

“Ah,” said Tove. “Any particular reason why? Did you forsee my gruesome death otherwise?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I mean no, but thanks for not outright denying it and freaking me out.”

Rikvi shrugged. “You are welcome.”

And Tove glared at her, knowing that Rikvi was not as socially dense as she appeared and was more than capable of being a right twit. This was the necromancer’s idea of a joke. 

 Maybe.

(Tove was never sure. To Rikvi, this made it funnier.)

“Well, fine, Let’s get going, then. The sooner this is over with, the better.”

Author Ambrosine
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