It was a day like any other. Tereas sat on a stool tenderly scrubbing the dirt out of Arynnia’s bloodied kneecap. “Owwah!” she fussed, nostrils flaring in discomfort. He smiled and continued washing the dirt out with his silk handkerchief. “Just wait ‘til you get stabbed next - I’ll scrub your wound with a troll’s hair brush!” she admonished him. * * * There he plucked a lone darkmoon flower out of his bags and leaned forward to carefully place it in her hair within close proximity to her ear. He activated the ear bloom while whispering urgently, “Where to now?” * * *