“My lady?”

A great sigh. Tired eyes looked around and gazed at Gosling running up the stairs to her where she stood on the upper deck. They were making a for headway as the Feisty Fox cut into the waters like a well-honed blade edge, angling down the river they had come and yearning for open ocean.

“Yes?” Philomel was coiling hair around her finger. “What is it?”

Gosling paused when she saw the stress lines in the Matriach’s face. She frowned slightly, before starting.

“He - your … 'friend’ is fed and watered. I think he might prefer beer over wine.”

Philomel dragged in a breath and thought about it. In all honesty, she did too. It was more that people seemed to expect the grand Matriarch of a feminist guild to desire wine over anything. “Right. Thank you, Gosling.”

“Another thing …”

The faun sighed and looked around at her. Taken aback by just how stressed Philomel looked Gosling stopped and shook her head. “N-nothing.” When the Matriach raised an eyebrow, Gosling just smiled sweetly and asked another question.

“What do we know?”

A look of torment crossed over the faun’s face. Her jaw tightened and she looked over to a corner where a small russet fox was skulking, his own eyes full of pain.

“From the reports that Vaeron has managed to piece together,” Philomel sighed, her brow becoming ever creased. “Celandine wandered into the Jagged Mountains. The same place where those old monks live - the Jal’shay. We don't know what has happened, but she basically disappeared right where the last sighting of the medusa was.”

Gosling's blood suddenly ran cold. Swallowing hard, her eyes went wide and her skin began to turn as pale as a sheet.

“The - the medusa?”

Philomel nodded fast, her fingers tensing in and out of fists. “The same one that we have heard stories of living above us, it is believed. Wants to be beautiful, so prays on the beautiful … what might a young girl, blessed by a goddess, be to her hmm?”

“Fffuck,” whispered the secretary, “Drys above.”

“Hmm,” Philomel nodded, her eyes dark with fear and fury. “Yes. Not good at all.”

Silence fell between the two women. Gosling's eyes cast around, surveying where they stood, away from the others before she looked back at her Matriarch. She fumbled as she placed her hands together.

“So - so your friend …”

“My daughter comes first beyond anything,” Philomel hissed sharply. “Even a man who I am literally forcing away from his home right now. Don't even begin to ask me about how that feels. If it the right thing. You never know,” she spat. “Corone might be a good eye opener for him.”

The secretary paused and looked down. “Is there anything I can get you my lady?”

“Only news that my daughter is safe,” Philomel replied, gripping the hilt of her dagger. “Only that.”