Quyen turned the page of the journal log written by Calliope. Above him a small ball of light floated, providing light and warmth for those inside his magical shelter. After not being able to find a quick way back home, Quyen had decided to hide them both somewhere. Somewhere was the right word. Somewhere safe. Somewhere without exits and entrances. He bit down on the stick between his teeth rather than a cigarette, as to not suffocate them both with cigarette smoke. So she thinks me strange, huh? He turned another page and read about the merchant and eventually about the gnome. He wondered about the things she had written down. What did they mean? What did she discover that she had done? He squinted at her. Obsessions are dangerous, girl, he thought. With his right hand palm he touched her forehead and checked the temperature, pushing her black locks out of her face. Warm, but not feverish. He pushed his coat away and checked her bandaged body to see if any of her wounds had reopened again. But they hadn't. Smiling, he placed his coat back over her and leaned back.
The coat slowly moved up and down by her steady breathing. And a melancholic feeling crept over Quyen as he thought back of the past. Damn, you look so much like her. So this is what you meant Ror? Bastard. He closed his eyes and rested while he could. She probably had questions when she woke up.
