Fenn was very, very confused.

It took crossing three bridges, four dirt roads, and one scraggly signpost before Daugi decided it was safe enough to let the fae out of her protective grip. That gave him time to lament the mold spores and slimy bits of fungus he was still coughing out -- they were wiggling -- and mull over what the fuck just happened in that mansion.

His memories of the encounter were... vague. Everything went fuzzy after the noises had gotten to him, most of it obscured by the jarring colors of the song. He did have the faint impression of a muscle-like, moldy tentacle monster staring into him though. That freaky image still left his bones as weak as jelly. What happened to the manuscript? It must have been left behind in the confusion. A bit sad, though not exactly unexpected. He could live with losing that so long as, you know, he was still living. At least he got a little out of the text before shit hit the wall.

A far more frightening thought pierced his skull. If that bile being inside Clemont’s house had stirred her curiosity, then what did that say of the Fae that she also studied? Wasn't that a funny thought? He shivered. This called for more research. But, next time, maybe in a less dangerous area…

The prolonged dragging stopped abruptly as Daugi flopped over with exhaustion on the side of the road, whining. Her paw hurt, her lungs burned, and she was still just the littlest bit scared out of her wits. The warm sun beat down on them. Flaxen grass prickled at their sides. Fenn gently slid his sleeve out of her drooling mouth and threw his arms around her head in a wordless hug. A fed-up grunt escaped her. Yet, she licked his face, wiping off the dirt and blood that had dried to his forehead. It brought a grin to him, a grin that she snuffed with a stony stare.

Mad? he signed sheepishly.

She snorted, still glaring.

He hung his head sheepishly, and thought a moment. Book important. Sorry I made problem. Make it up to you? he signed excitedly. Daugi perked up and watched Fenn rummage around in his bag a moment. After a bit of exaggerated looking, he pulled out a thick bone, one he must have picked up at the butchery in the last town. The boy presented her the treat with a proud flourish of his hand.

The wolf lit up and took the bone from him gladly, gnawing and slobbering over the flavor, happily anticipating the marrow inside. What a just reward for an awful day.