The moment I left Elinore's tent, I was caught up in a whirl of noise and activity. The transition was sharp, but it fled my mind as I nearly stumbled over Fable, who was draped in front of the tent's entrance.
Of course, it wasn't exactly like I could 'trip' over something the size of a heavy war horse. Instead, I just took a step back and glared at him. He raised his great head and licked my hand, slathering my fingers in saliva.
"Hey!" I protested, wiping my hand back on his fur. "And where do you think you've been?"
When I awoke the day before, he was strangely absent from the camp. I'd spent the entire night alone and the morning until this point worrying about him. I could feel his presence, and the others assured me he had been fine, but they also didn't know where he disappeared to.
