He blinked at the shovels, glancing down at his dirt-encrusted hands and then up again with realization. The bard shivered at the strange, hazy memory of the afternoon, seeing only the earth beneath his paw-hands as he scooped it out and flung it away, digging, desperately digging, but too late too late toolate to do any good. Silently, he held out a hand, offering to take one of the shovels if Ronin would let him. The king was sick, after all. Dying. He shouldn't have to carry heavy things, at least not on his own.
And Jigano didn't know what else to do.
"Nothing," he said, grasping after the distraction, knowing it for what it was and grateful for it. "No sign of the blight on the plants within the barrier, nor any of the animals that looked like they were from here."
Ronin's glowing form was a different sort of distraction, a magic that was at once strange and yet achingly familiar to the former kitsune. He had once been able to summon dancing lights in such a manner, foxfire motes that responded to his thoughts. That had been something like a lifetime ago now, it felt, and he turned his attention quickly back to the trail he cut, using the Spire's outline against the stars as a reference point to guide his distance and direction in the frosty leafchange night.
"It happened so fast," the bard agreed bleakly. "There was no warning. One moment Edy was walking away and the next..." Teeth and fire. No blood. No screams. Nothing left of the friend he had let down. Nothing left of the friend he had been unable to save.
Would he see her face again, when next he went to pray at Ludo's shrine?
And Jigano didn't know what else to do.
"Nothing," he said, grasping after the distraction, knowing it for what it was and grateful for it. "No sign of the blight on the plants within the barrier, nor any of the animals that looked like they were from here."
Ronin's glowing form was a different sort of distraction, a magic that was at once strange and yet achingly familiar to the former kitsune. He had once been able to summon dancing lights in such a manner, foxfire motes that responded to his thoughts. That had been something like a lifetime ago now, it felt, and he turned his attention quickly back to the trail he cut, using the Spire's outline against the stars as a reference point to guide his distance and direction in the frosty leafchange night.
"It happened so fast," the bard agreed bleakly. "There was no warning. One moment Edy was walking away and the next..." Teeth and fire. No blood. No screams. Nothing left of the friend he had let down. Nothing left of the friend he had been unable to save.
Would he see her face again, when next he went to pray at Ludo's shrine?
