Waiting, though, was the worst part. Why would one want to wait, when the conclusion to a battle ought to have been obvious and decisive? It ought to have been decided with axe against sword, in a furious bout of blood. There was no way it should drag on for such a number of days. Vol was increasingly aware that his time was limited. Each day that passed, the command he'd been given by Francis was running out, and by his standards, he still had yet to achieve anything significant.
"I think it's time for me to go in, eh?" Silverfish said, stretching himself out. The few days of rest that they'd been allowed had done wonders for the recovery of him and Vale. That was about the only silver lining in it all. Even Vol's burnt hand was almost entirely recovered by now. But the fact of their healthiness only made them all the more restless.
