“It was the strangest thing.”
“It does sound weird. Not ‘remember your name’ weird, but you’re almost describing regret. From Lucio.”
“I know. So, then, as if he’d just remembered something, he asked if I was the one he burned with that gout of flame when ‘we were fighting those grimlocks’.”
Dire Fox winced.
“I’d like to think that woman survived--”
“You mean you’d like to think he’d remember it if someone he was traveling with had died.”
“Yes,” she nodded, “However,” she looked at the new ring on her hand, “I figured she’d probably never work with him again…”
The Halfling smiled, “…and you certainly are.”
“So I don’t see why I wouldn’t want immunity to fire.”
“Oh certainly. How many times has he almost burnt you?”
“Only three, but if one thing improves your reflexes, it’s dodging sheets of fire. You?”
“Twice, well, two and a half.”
She laughed, a few short yelps as Elves did, “Is that a short joke? From you?”
He chuckled and shook his head, “No. We were fighting this warlock—“
This time, the sounds of her mirth were loud enough to bounce off the darkening trees. She covered her mouth, but not her smile as he continued, “and he just lays down this roiling wall of flame,” he motioned forward, his hands crawling out to simulate tongues of flame, “I dodge it—barely—but then the warlock just…” he turned his hand inward to show the flame turning around, “right back at me,” he shook his head, “never saw it coming. Figure it’s worth half.”
“Yeah, half.”
Next Chapter
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