"What happened to Warrior-Two?" I asked.
"We parted ways because they didn't like that we stuck up for a blue cloak," the yeti red cloak answered.
I think his name was Daiji. He was about a head smaller than Zen, and his fur was more of a creamy white compared to Zen's light gray mane.
"Most of the apprentices who weren't part of Saturday's raid don't like you," a pink-haired dragonkin girl chimed in. "They think you stand out too much."
"Like a nail that's just begging to be hammered," added a third, dumpy kid with brown feathers for hair and golden eyes that seemed as sharp as a hawk's.
From the pair of bird's wings sprouting from his back, I assumed he was one of those noble griffins mentioned in the realms race compendium of Divah's guide.
"But we like you, Will," Morph assured me. "You're the reason most of us are alive today."
