Valentine, as he'd said, returned the next morning. He arrived as promised, with a fresh stock of food and other useful items in tow, which he carefully dispensed among us.
Valentine approached our group with an irritated look in his eyes. "Morning. How are you people?"
The rest of us, including myself, are seated by a small fire that staves off the early morning chill. Lucas sways as he sits, groggy and barely awake. Celeste is still curled up next to her old master, asleep.
Fortunate for all of us, Roland's traveling supplies included some kind of barely edible swill he called coffee grounds, and Cyril's magic conjured up hot water. It's not the most appetizing, but the warmth helps, as do the handful of dates Valentine brought us to go with the watery substance.
He sits and gestures to the air as if asking the question in a sweeping gesture.
