Snowball wasn't quite old enough to 'run' in an effective manner, but he eagerly scampered back and forth along the length of the meeting table with all the energy he had.
She pressed her fingers to her lips and looked over at Archibald, who stood nearby. He looked nearly as tired as she felt, drawn, worn.
She knew part of it would be from mourning his son, but this was worse than when she'd seen him last, which meant his investigations into the sick townspeople - most likely - had been keeping him busy and awake too long.
She sighed.
"House Chastaine is afflicted." She said. "What of the townspeople?"
Archibald took a moment to clear his throat, running a hand down his face wearily as he looked up from his notes to glance over at her.
