"In the popular bakery nearby," Astrid replied, finally letting go of Ace. She stepped back, her posture casual, though her expression betrayed a hint of wariness. She knew better than to underestimate Sonia's sense of smell—it was sharper than that of a typical Werefur curseling, thanks to her peculiar and bizarre innate curse art.
"How long has it been since you got him?" Sonia asked, her voice calm yet probing. She moved closer to Ace, her eyes narrowing as she began sniffing him methodically. From his head to his neck, down to his chest, waist, and finally to his shoes, where her attention lingered on the mud clinging stubbornly to the soles, she sniffed like a predator identifying its prey, her movements deliberate and unsettling.
Finally, she straightened and turned to Astrid with an unexpected demand, "I want him."
