“Do you need me to take a turn?”

Ambrosine had just finished cleaning mingled blood and mud off her boots, the result of her latest hunt. Although the armor got set aside, she buckled her swords back on reluctantly.

“Huh?” Mina had to give herself a shake. The young druid was spreading herself a smidge thin trying to assist Ambrosine, carry out her druidic duties, and keep Jander in one (mental, physical) piece all at the same time. Few would see it–the cloak of chipper youth was a thick one–but Ambrosine had keener eyes than most.

“Go take a nap,” the death knight said, clapping Mina on the shoulder. “I’ll grab some food and shove it in front of Jander’s face and glare at him until he eats it. I’ve got nothing else to do right now. And don’t worry about prowling with me next time, hmm? I’ll bother Illy and Jam.”

“But–“

“Bzzzt.” Ambrosine mock-scowled. “Illy’s been causing trouble getting drunk with the goblins again anyway. Keeping her busy will be doing Jam a favor. Go nap, kitten. I’ll kick your ass if you don’t.”

“Fiiiiiiiiiiine.” Mina huffed softly before shifting into cat form to find some place warm to doze. The ass kicking threat was hollow, but she might end up with Jamethera being sent to sit on her or something. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Ambrosine nodded with satisfaction and struck off to find some decent grub in Westgarde. Jander’d been scrying there last she saw earlier, and it was unlikely he’d moved since.

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