Ch. 8: Blood, Mud, and Ashes (1)
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            The smell of wet fur kept Felicity’s nose permanently wrinkled.

            “I hope this doesn’t ruin them,” said Andromeda, looking up at the makeshift tent of furs they’d strung between two trees for shelter from the raging storm. “We’re going to need them later. It’ll be cold on the mountains.”

            “It shouldn’t, so long as we let them dry properly,” said Erro.

            He was mashed between Andrew and Andromeda, all of them still damp, but he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.


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