Morning crept into the manor kitchen on the smell of frying butter, and Vella watched it over her mug.
Loccy stood at the stove flipping pancakes with a snap of her wrist that sent each one spinning upward. Ash sat in the middle of the table, sticky to the elbows, chewing a wooden spoon like a scholar.
'Four hours of sleep, three mugs of tea, one stranger's laugh from a dead crystal, one question I can't stop chewing on.'
Juna slouched at the far end of the bench, ears flat, glaring at her plate instead of at anyone. She said nothing since the hallway yesterday, her stiff, hunched shoulders louder than any insult she might have thrown.
"Wolf, are you going to eat that pancake or glare at it until it confesses?" Vella asked.
"I'm thinking," she mumbled, ears twitching, eyes still glued to the plate.
'She's thinking about a hallway and two joined hands. Oh, I know that kind of thinking.'
