Allan: Healer hopeful, kitchen helper. Rethinks his life's choices.
I haven't slept a wink. I can still see the gore, still hear the screams of the dragon as it was being butchered. Perhaps the word roar will be more apt for a creature like a dragon, but by the time it died, I swear that it was whimpering.
My hands are shaking again. I do my best to steal them. To keep putting one foot before the other. We are going to go in concealing, both Tine and me.
Must be nice, for the rest to feel nothing at the death of a being. Still, the rest are coming for moral support. That is nice of them. Augustine takes a hold of my hand when we near the office building where the clinic is.
"The doctor is going to fix us," he murmurs. I wonder if he believes in that, himself. Or, if it is just something he likes to tell himself.
