“Yes? What is it?” Raven asked sharply as the noise abated.
“Since our earliest days mapping the Weave,” the Nomad said, its'
voice rich and sulphuric, “My tribe has been loyal to the Forest.”
“That is true,” Raven replied, “What of it?”
“We have always come when called,” the face in the wall
continued, “Acted as the Forest has required, in all matters.”
“I have no argument with that,” Raven sighed, “Why do you
mention it?”
“We believe we may have found the trail of a Fallacy,” the Nomad
told him, “Or at the very least, a Dangerous Misconception....”
“And you wish to take your leave,” Raven interrupted, “In order
to hunt it?”
“With your permission,” the Nomad confirmed.
Raven looked at Fiona. While never taking her eyes off Strauss, she
nodded. “That's fine by me,” she said.
“Permission granted,” Raven said, but the wall had already
returned to normal, no trace of the Nomad anywhere to be seen.
“They really don't know,” Fiona said, her hands still eliciting
purrs of satisfaction from the cats, “They have no idea, do they?”
