“Just a minute,” my
husband said, looking like he'd just been slapped in the face with a
wet fish, “Did you just say something about a war?”
“I did,” Raven
replied grimly, his eyes firmly on Oak. I was sure he was about to
say more when Fiona gasped desperately, her face full of panic,
sucking at the air while her fingers clawed at her throat.
Raven grabbed her hands
in his, holding them tight as he moved to pat her back gently. “Take
it easy, girl,” he spoke to her calmly, “You're back now, just
take a few moments to get used to it.” He stroked her back in a
tender, circular motion, her hands still grasped in his, all the
while still watching Oak.
“What kind of war?”
Edward asked, a niggling worried tone just creeping into his voice.
Raven didn't reply at
first, keeping his attention focused on Fiona. Slowly, gradually,
the fear melted away from her face as the tension lifted from her
shoulders.
“What kind of war?”
Raven said eventually, “I don't know. The usual, messy,
destructive kind I should think.”
