Rhdd took in a deep breath as Lady Mallory gave her report. Apparently he had been holding his breath - or, at least breathing very shallowly -- during the period of their enforced hiding.

~~Well, I suppose that having a rampaging White Dragon nearby is a pretty good reason,~~ he thought to himself, by way of justifying his uncharacteristic quietness that had -- as much as he hated to admit it to himself -- bordered on outright fear.

He turned and regarded the noblewoman. "Farwalker is safe? That is good news. I'll wager that not many have come as close as she did to an ill-tempered White that is on the hunt, and lived to tell the tale."

After a short pause, Rhydd gave a nod of approval. "Although I suppose that we'll never know for sure, I think that it's rather likely that your magicks saved us."

"That was some quick thinking on your part," he added, flashing about as much of a smile as the laconic man ever did.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:39, Wed 15 Dec 2021.

"Well... I just hope we never have to put it to the test like this again.  But thank you, Rhydd.  It means more coming from you than most." Mallory was a bit heartened by Rhydd and worked to pull herself back together.  A moment's pause was taken to lift the Chwinga in her palms up a bit higher to eye level with herself to give it a soft smile.  "And thank you for trusting us, little friend.  I'm glad we could keep you safe too.  If you'd be so kind as to linger a while, I have another friend who very much wants to meet you."  She wiped the back of her glove beneath her eye - she was going to ruin her makeup at that rate and quickly sniffed to steady herself.  "Come on then; we should go make sure Farwalker is alright."

If the Chwinga wanted to bound away the moment they returned back to the snowy world below, there was little Mallory could actually do about it.  He represented a fair bounty of gold and doing something nice for Dannika, but she wasn't about to try and capture an innocent spirit for the sake of greed.  She offered the little fellow a spot to rest in the safety of her hood and scarf while she clambered herself down over the edge of the hatch.  Before there were glimpses of her head peeking out but she came down with her boots kicking this way and that as she dropped free to the frozen ground below.  The first blast of icy wind made her instantly regret leaving that little cubby hole... it wasn't all that warm, but body heat and her cantrips had made it a far cry better all the same.

---

Once everyone has vacated the pocket space, Mallory will either end the spell early (if that's an option) or simply use her knife to cut the rope loose with as little loss to its length as possible.  Either way, she wants that rope back.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:28, Thu 16 Dec 2021.

It seemed the Werebear traveled light. Among their possessions were their loincloth, fishing rod, the dead knucklehead trout they had fetched for themselves, and, of course, the pouch Astre had attempted to steal earlier.

In the interaction with Torgrim, the Chwinga had elected to keep its spoon, as the turn of events came rather quickly, with little time left to inspect the tall Half-Elf's mysterious instrument. "♫" it sang as it was carried back into the material plane, peeking up from Mallory's shoulder. It did not particularly fancy her comfortably furlined hood. In fact, it did not favor riding along at all anymore. Once given the option, it climbed down Mallory and hopped off from knee height, their straw outerwear splaying to dampen their descent. Once their tiny feet made contact with the wintry terrain, it hefted its spoon in salutatory fashion. "♪!" it chimed, the sound harmonizing with the shrill of the cold winds, before turning around and wandering off.

When it realized no-one was following it, it turned back around and voiced its frustration, pointing with its spoon over yonder. "♪!"

Rhydd felt more than a little guilty when he realized that he had allowed Lady Mallory to disembark from the safe haven before him -- before anyone else, for that matter. Thankfully, however, no trouble came from it. He followed quickly after the wizardess, and peered every which way, wondering if the big White cared enough to set some sort of a trap to ensnare them. He was pleased to find that that did not appear to be the case.

The little Chwinga's antics amused him, and he found himself wondering if too much time spent with the diminutive creature might unduly soften his reputation as hard-edged man who brooked no nonsense.

Seemingly the Chwinga wanted the threesome to follow it. "Bide a wee, Little One," he said, still smiling, in spite of the concern that the frigid winds might cause his face to freeze with that silly expression in place.

Motioning upwards towards the opening into their magicked hidey-hole, he explained, "We don't want to leave the other big one behind."

Raising his voice a trifle, he called up "Hoi, Torgrim! Our little visitor is gettin' impatient for you to join us, so that we can see what he wants to show us."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:40, Fri 17 Dec 2021.

Indeed, just as she'd helped to haul the men up into the pocket space when they first ascended the short rope climb, so too did Mallory stand down at the side of the hatch to help them brace their drop if they'd like the hand.  Once Torgrim had left she withdrew a stout dagger from her belt; a good, sturdy tool that lacked any decoration and clearly wasn't just some prop blade like so many other wealthy folk accessorized with.  With the rope drawn taut in one hand she sawed the edge of the blade flush with the threshold of that interdimensional gap and shaved loose the very finest of frayed ends.  There was only a little fluttering of stray rope fibers left hung in the air which she quickly tucked up into the space out of sight.

Meanwhile, the Chwinga's insistence at going off one way while Farwalker was in another left Mallory conflicted.  She hesitated in the midst of winding her rope back up under her cloak with a furtive glance back and forth.  "Ah... goodness.  Torgrim, could you please go get Farwalker?  Rhydd and I will follow the Chwinga.  If you lose sight of us, Astre will lead you to me."  Farwalker was presumably safe and fully within view from their position, so splitting up didn't seem too treacherous at the moment so long as they could regroup quickly.  Her volunteering Rhydd to come along was less a matter of giving instruction and more a plea for company, however; it was clear from her pleading expression cast his way that she was still shaken from the whole experience.

Astre, meanwhile, had returned to his original M.O. at the site where the Werebear had first emerged.  He was often scolded on the notion of cats being foolishly stubborn and he wouldn't argue it at face value.  He'd gone after that satchel before and being thwarted once wasn't going to stop him.  The Tressym sniffed about momentarily to consider the trout and fishing rod, but instead simply grasped the cinched-up satchel in his jaws once more and took flight back into the skies overhead.

---

I figure sending Torgrim to recover Farwalker means that our two AWOL-Because-of-Life players can be managed by the DM in the meantime, and whomever returns first can take over narrating their actions.  That way Mallory and Rhydd don't end up in a situation where they're waiting for a response from a player who doesn't have the availability to reply.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:18, Fri 17 Dec 2021.

Dropping down out of the toasty warmth of the magicked space that Lady Mallory had created into the biting cold and flesh-numbing winds of the Northlands was like a sudden -- and none too gentle -- slap to the face. Rhydd had been expecting it, but nonetheless it had nearly taken his breath away, and he was quick to pull the hood of his heavy winter coat up over his head.

He found himself wondering how the wizardess knew that Farwalker was safe . . . well, had not been eaten by the big White might be a better way to put it. He put it down to some excellent scouting on Astre's part, and idly wondered if it would be possible for Lady Mallory to fix him up with a relation of the inimitable flying Feline.

Catching the expectant expression on the wizardess's face as she looked at him made Rhydd think that her Ladyship was awaiting an answer to something that she had just said. Luckily some portion of his mind had managed to keep hold of what had been spoken, and he nodded as if he had been hanging onto the noble's every word.

"Aye, let's thee and me be off, then," he replied.

"No need to test our little friend's patience any further than we already have."

No doubt there was a possibility of danger due to the fact that foursome -- well, fivesome, if you counted Astre -- would be split up . . . at least for a while. But with Astre flying over-watch, he doubted that anything -- or any one -- would be able to sneak up on Torgrim unawares.

And with the evidence of the floating room fresh in his mind, Rhydd felt comfortable that between Lady Mallory's obvious talents with magicks and his own skill with a bow, they would be a formidable twosome if push happened to come to shove.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:44, Sun 19 Dec 2021.

It took Farwalker a bit longer to make it back to shore than it did for her to swim out a ways. For one, she didn’t have the wake of dragon helping to pull her along, and it was mush easier to swim down and away than it was to occasionally fight her way to the surface then let herself sink to the bottom and walk her eat to shore. Mostly, she was annoyed that she wasn’t able to keep her head above the water long enough to tell the dragon off.

Once she was out of the water, it was off towards where she left her pack, then over to what little remained of the werebear’s gear. On the downside, she now had an additional task to complete before she could get back to travelling. From there, it was a slow tromp to town, ice occasionally flaking from her body and fluttering away in the wind.

Tiny Chwinga legs were not built for speed. So unless it was picked back up, Torgrim would be able to run down to fetch Farwalker, trek down and through the mountain pass, visit the markets in Baldur's Gate, and make it back with time to spare before the Chwinga had scaled the nearest hillside. And while it had at first consideration seemingly manifested out of thin air, such was not the case – the astute observer could spot the small, triangular footprints it had left behind in the hard and glittering snow.

Farwalker was joined by Astre in reclaiming the Werebear's belongings. The smooth stone the winged feline had spied earlier, was, true to his suspicions, a rune. The carved symbol was intricate, and not contained within any lexicon Astre subscribed to.* Further inside, near the bottom of the pouch, was a stash of cloudberries wrapped in cloth.

The Chwinga wished to crest the hill, for reasons not readily apparent. There wasn't anything of interest beyond the occasional tree that hinted at Lonelywood Forest. The Chwinga, whether carried or by foot, nevertheless insisted on pressing onward until it reached an outcropping a ways away from the shore. The snow was disturbed – some had been rolled into miniature snowmen, complete with branches made up to resemble hair – and a cracked dinner plate bearing a single silver coin was nestled amid it all. "♪!" The Chwinga raised its spoon. And then, out from the tiniest clumps of snow, two additional Chwingas eased out from their hiding place. While they wore the same straw apparel, their white masks all had differing patterns of angled, red stripes.

They sang softly in symphony, observing the larger bipeds with just as much fascination as the first Chwinga had.

---

Link to an image of the rune: https://i.imgur.com/xjIgThe.jpg

Though Astre had taken to the sky after gathering the Werebear's satchel, he simply circled about in a holding pattern overhead.  From on high he could see all parts of the group, scattered as they'd made themselves, and soon swooped back down when Farwalker reached what was left of the Werebear's belongings.  The fluffy-furred troublemaker alighted himself onto her shoulder with a flutter and mewled imploringly around the small bag in his jaws.

"Mrrrp..." while a cat's vocalizations could often be hard to interpret, there was no mistaking an air of concern over Farwalker as Astre brushed his forehead into her temple.

---

When it came to pursuing the Chwinga, Mallory was momentarily worried it would simply dart away quick as a flash and be a true challenge to follow.  Spirits were often slippery sorts, after all, and stories told of Chwinga being able to just vanish into their surrounding nature with ease.  She was quite surprised - and shared a hapless shrug of realization with Rhydd - when it turned out one of their strides was a dozen of the little Chwinga's.

"My goodness, Dannika would simply fall over herself if she saw this." the noble observed softly, as if worried raising her voice might frighten off the sprites or, worse still, draw something terrible upon them all again.  The whimsical sight of itty-bitty snowmen and a trio of chiming Chwinga was a delight, though the dissonance of seeing such innocence after having just watched the Werebear be devoured alive muddied the moment for her.  The plate and coin on display was a ponderously confusing sight and she leaned nearer to Rhydd, shoulder pressed to his to keep her voice down.  "What do you think the dish is about?  Normally I'd think offerings, but surely forest spirits don't use money?  Where did they even get flatware from?"

When it became clear the two of them were the center of attention, Mallory offered a thin smile and shifted to kneel down in the snow so that the Chwinga could get a better look at her up close.  The opposite was true as well; she wanted to put every detail to memory as best she could to be able to aptly convey it to Dannika later.  "Hello there, little friends.  I'm Mallory and this is Rhydd, pleased to meet you.  Your companion here has just been on quite an adventure." she hummed with a soft, sing-song tone to her voice in hopes of emulating the Chwinga's own intonations.  Well-meaning, of course, though part of her worried of a misinterpretation...
This message was last edited by the player at 21:42, Mon 20 Dec 2021.

"Hey, glad you're not dead. Congratulations."

Torgrim came upon Farwalker and Astre as they were rifling through what earthly possessions the werebear had been forced to leave behind.

"So, long story short: Mallory magicked, so we're fine. Chwingas are real, and not just the delusions of an obsessed bookworm high on candle fumes and loneliness, as one might believe at first. Not only are they real, but Mallory and Rhydd are following one right now. We'll probably catch up in no time."

Torgrim looked at Farwalker with increasing worry. He'd figured her and others of her kind were more resistant to the cold than others, but she was covered in a leaf thin layer of frozen lake water. He couldn't imagine that being comfortable, Goliath or no.

"But you know, whenever you're ready. Couldn't blame you if you needed some time to process the shock of what just happened."

"♪ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♫". The Chwinga, while communicating, completely unintentionally composed a little song for their visitors. Once they got chatting, there was no stopping them. At first they appeared timid, but once their friend convinced them the beings many times their size bore no ill intent, they gradually became more comfortable – and daring. One Chwinga tugged at the straps on Rhydd's boot, completely enraptured by the clasps. That it could very easily be accidentally stepped on did not seem to faze it. The other two Chwinga busied themselves with their utensils and dinner plate, scooping some snow up on the coin they had prepared. In addition to the spoon, they were also in possession of a table knife, which they used to mime the motion of cutting the coin. Of course, no actual cutting was taking place, but the Chwinga happily kept it up regardless as they pretended to eat off the plate, and chimed for their guests to partake in the meal.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:15, Wed 22 Dec 2021.

Rhydd stood stock-still after the additional Chwingas appeared. He wasn't sure how skittish they might be, and he didn't want to scare them away.

"I've got no idea," he replied in a whisper when Lady Mallory asked him about the plate and silver coin.

The noblewoman soon knelt down in the snow and introduced herself and Rhydd. He remained standing, still unsure how to best seem friendly with the little creatures.

After a moment he knelt down himself, being mindful of the Chwinga that was fidgeting with his boot-lace. The archer pushed his hood back from his face, so that the little ones could see his expression.

Smiling what he hoped was a friendly smile, he reached into his belt-pouch and drew forth a silver piece, which he slowly -- and with what he hoped was an appropriate amount of solemnity -- placed on the plate beside the coin that was already there.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:31, Tue 21 Dec 2021.

Though she had written off Dannika's preoccupation with Chwinga as an eccentricity at first, the antics of the little creatures quickly made Mallory begin to see the charm her friend had become so taken by.  She had to hide a grin and giggle behind the curl of her knuckles when they began to pantomime having a meal.

"Oh, they're just darling.  This reminds me of my little nieces and nephews playing at hosting tea parties." she offered in a delighted hush as Rhydd joined her side.  Why the Chwinga seemed so caught on imaginative play was beyond her, but it was too adorable for her to really care.  It was a shame Dannika wasn't present to see it, but she'd surely be going berserk and spoil the soirée.

With Rhydd's addition to the "meal", Mallory reached out and pantomimed delicately picking up a saucer and tea cup, pinky lifted in playful exaggeration.  That same finger also wiggled a little as, with a shimmer of sparkling arcane energy, a phantom tea cup appeared within her grasp.  Devoid of any actual tea but all the more convincing a prop to play a dainty drink from.  It vanished away a moment later to be replaced by a similarly illusory tea pot of fine, well-gilded porcelain, which she offered to mime "filling cups" for Rhydd and their Chwinga hosts in turn alike.  While she was perhaps letting her guard down a bit much in the moment, Mallory couldn't resist as she hummed a few bars of a common melody; within a beat or two the illusory trill of unseen piano keys began to plink out, giving their gathering the sort of gentle ambient background music any tea party back in Neverwinter would enjoy.

---

"Minor Illusion" for the piano music and "Prestidigitation" allows for the brief creation of hand-held illusions and non-magical trinkets, so that seems fitting here.  ^^
This message was last edited by the player at 00:04, Wed 22 Dec 2021.

Rhydd's offering was met with careful consideration and weighty wonder, and the Chwinga watched the coin closely, clearly moved by the profound gesture. Now they had not one coin, but two! Even the Chwinga occupied with Rhydd's boots waddled on over to join its kin. A wad of snow was soon scooped by the spoon-wielding Chwinga to garnish it, which only caused the other two to increase in their revel.

It was when Mallory sipped her illusory tea that they erupted in cheer – well, song, rather – and dance. They adjusted the pitch of their jingle to agree with Mallory's plinking piano, taking turns to accept the pretend beverage she poured from her conjured tea pot.

~~Oh, by all the good gods,~~ Rhydd thought as he gazed, wide-eyed, at the scene developing before him as both Lady Mallory and the Chwingas all made their contributions to the revelry, ~~if word of what I'm doing here ever gets out, I'll be the laughing-stock of . . . well, everyone, everywhere. No one will ever take me seriously again.~~

All the same, the good-hearted gaieity was so inspiring that it was impossible to resist, and soon enough Rhydd held out his imaginary cup -- pinky-finger raised up in imitation of Lady-Mallory's grip (because she would understand all there was to know about such things, don't you know) -- for the wizardess to pour tea into.

Insofar as he could remember, Rhydd had never drunk any tea, ever -- well, with the possible exception of some that was made for him as a medicine when he had some sort of stomach ailment one time. So he kept a close eye on Lady Mallory, and tried to do as she did.

Well, except for the music that she was able to conjure up out of thin air. With everyone else jingling and chirping in some musical fashion, Rhydd soon began tapping his foot in time with the tune.

Unfortunately, it had been said of him that he could not carry a tune in a bucket. Another wag had pronounced that his singing voice sounded like a frog farting in a bucket.

However, thinking of frogs soon had Rhydd erupting in a deep-voiced "Knee-Deep . . . Knee-Deep . . . Knee-Deep . . ." as he attempted to contribute to the musical gaiety.

He blushed furiously and was unable to look Lady Mallory in the eye . . .

Though it came as a bit of a surprise, Rhydd's earnest efforts - clumsy and self-conscious as they were - struck Mallory as entirely endearing.  She knew better than to laugh but couldn't hold back her smile at how he flustered.  The hard-edged brute who threatened to feed annoyances to the literal wolves or waded square into battle with Trolls seemed quite far away in that moment.

A gentle, gloved hand rested to his shoulder so Mallory could lean in near and whisper low for his sake.  "This really is just the strangest day, isn't it?  I doubt even Dannika would ever believe the whole recollection." she knew a man's scuffed ego when she saw it, but the fact that the huntsman even allowed himself to such a moment spoke far better of his good nature than if he'd just stiffly turned his nose up at the frivolity.  The noble offered his shoulder a squeeze, then eased back to return her attention once more to the gathered sprites before them.

"This is all quite wonderful, truly, but I'm afraid we should be going sooner than later.  We must collect our friends; we won't be able to endure the cold of the night." she explained gently, still uncertain just how much the Chwinga actually understood of their language.

The phantom teapot vanished away in a swirl as Mallory curled her fingers about, quick to stir up the motes of illusory light that circled her palm before the image sorted itself into a new form.  A simple rendering, much like a watercolor painting made in broad strokes, of herself and her companions making their way toward the gates of a vague town.  "But you know... if you'd like, you could come with us.  I have a friend in town who would love to meet you.  She's very curious about your kind."  The image shifted to show the trio of Chwinga alongside the party.  A passing shimmer and swirl like ink in water changed the illusion once more; in that same color rendering was the three Chwinga being presented by Mallory herself to a frizzy-haired Dannika laden with all her scrolls and books.  The latter of whom was aglow with joy and excitement at their surrounding presence.  "What do you say?  Would you like to come and pay a visit?"

It had begun to snow. Where exactly it came from was a mystery, as the sky remained perfectly clear, but for the little impromptu get-together it was unmistakably snowing softly.

Once the merry died down, the Chwinga observed Mallory's visuals attentively. Their expression or behavior betrayed no understanding as the images cycled, and once they had, they chimed softly without looking at each other, having made up their mind in an instant. The Chwinga with the spoon – it was clear it was the original Chwinga who had visited the party from the downward-facing arrow shape of the red stripe on its mask and not just the spoon passing around – stepped forward and held out its arms as if to say 'pick me up', while the two other Chwinga remained.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:04, Sun 26 Dec 2021.

Mallory watched the Chwinga's deliberation with lip-biting anxiousness while her gaze darted about between the trio and over to Rhydd.  She would never try to force such darlings into cooperation, of course, but ached at the potential for being refused their cooperation.  Being able to do something nice for Dannika was a key in the whole matter... but there was also a considerable amount of money on the line too!  Reputation as well; being able to come back with such an elusive quarry within a day's time of the commission was precisely the sort of quality that held true value, if she hoped to try and foster any kind of relationship with Candlekeep in the future.

She gave a heavy sigh of relief when at least one of the Chwinga seemed on board with the idea.  All three would've been ideal, but she wasn't going to complain!  Gloved hands reached out - one open palmed to act as a stepping platform and the other gently curled for support about its tiny body - to gingerly hoist the little fellow up once more.  "Wonderful!  It'll be a grand time.  Of course, you may leave whenever you wish as well; if you let me know, I may even be able to have you escorted right back here." the young noble assured their newest, littlest companion as she lifted the Chwinga to once more have a spot to settle into her hood if it pleased.  "After all, I'd love to come back later for another spot of tea with you all."

Rhydd really didn't know what to expect by way of an answer when Lady Mallory made her proposal for the Chwingas to come along with them, into a town. He knew next to nothing about the little creatures -- other than what he had just observed for himself, of course -- so he had no idea whether some, most, or none of them would agree to the noblewoman's invitation.

Surprising himself a little, he felt actually pleased when the first of the Chwingas to contact them made it plain that he -- or she -- wished to come along with the Big Folk. He hadn't expected to care which way the Little Ones had decided.

With a chuckle, he turned to Lady Mallory and said "When Dannika sees who you have brought along with you, she is goin' to pis . . . errrr, she'll be *very* pleased."

"Yes, and I'd like very much to see that before we get accosted by another Dragon or freeze to death by moonlight."  Though the Chwinga were a delightful distraction from the traumatic moment they'd all just endured, they weren't out of the woods yet.  Literally.  "Let's regroup with the others so we can get a move on back to town.  Poor Farwalker must be shattered from that experience..."

Of course, even in her haste to get to warmer and safer places, Mallory couldn't overlook manners.  She rose and dusted her skirts free of clinging snow, then offered a prim curtsy to the remaining Chwinga.  "Don't you worry; your friend will be in the best of care with us and they'll be back with stories to tell, I'm certain."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:19, Tue 28 Dec 2021.

"You make a good point," Rhydd said when Lady Mallory spoke of rejoining Farwalker. He knew that Goliaths were tough, but this ordeal had really proven the point to him. He still wasn't sure how Farwalker had managed to survive so long in the freezing-cold waters of the lake.

He waited while the noblewoman said their good-byes to the Chwingas who were not going with them, figuring that she would be much better with her words than he would be with his. Plus, truth be told, women . . . well, some of them, any way -- Rhydd had known a few who could've blistered the paint off of a wall just by cursing at it -- the better class of women had a more gentle way of expressing things that he ever would.

When Lady Mallory had finished speaking with the Chwingas, he asked her "Can you communicate with Astre from this far away?"

Mallory took a moment to cast her one-eyed gaze skyward in consideration, then shook her head to the negative.  "Not yet, no.  We're a bit too far."  She'd surrendered much of her mystique around Rhydd, all things considered.  It was no doubt telling to look back on some of her claims of seeming arcane omniscience with the additional context that she could remotely communicate with an extra set of eyes-in-the-sky.

Still, she gave the surly gentleman a lot of her trust in the short time since she'd stopped fearing him, she realized.  "Honestly, I think the world would be a better place if everyone had a fluffy or feathered companion of their own.  You can tell a lot about someone by how they treat a pet."  An idle observation on their walk back toward the shore, and one paired with a bit of an impish grin cast Rhydd's way.  "Or how they sing.  What was that tune before?  Knee-deep?"

Rhydd gave Lady Mallory a side-eyed glance upon hearing the "Knee-Deep" reference.

"That . . . ummmm, that should just be our little secret," he suggested after a moment, his gaze now directed towards the far-away speck in the sky that he thought was probably Astre.

After a short pause he cleared his throat. "It's not like anybody would believe you, any way. Rhydd Maldhon, sing? Pffffttt! Riiight!!!" he added with a chuckle.

"Of course, of course." Mallory could only laugh it off with a roll of her eyes.  Egos were such fragile things, though she was no better herself on that front.  "I'll come up with something to tell Dannika... but, for what it's worth, I thought it was rather charming."

The Chwinga assumed a comfortable position between the noblewoman's soft, furlined hood and smooth, black locks, though not before it had insisted on being lowered to the snow one last time to hand over the spoon to the Chwinga without a utensil. Once that business was taken care of, it waved its wayside companions goodbye.

Reduced to a mask that could have be mistaken for a peculiar hairpin, the Chwinga remained content watching the return trip while absently caressed Mallory's scalp. "♪~!" it mused vaguely to the tune of Rhydd's Knee-Deep.