We sprawl around the fire, toasting sweetmeats and swapping tales. Scuttlebutt manages to squeeze beneath Krena's arm and seems to find it a good place to settle.
With a flourish, Will finishes spinning the tale of our Loch Folk adventure. I hadn't resisted the impulse to insert commentary, so pretty much everyone is left doubled over.
We each have our appointed roles. Will's a born storyteller, Finn's a gregarious clown, and Krena and I make a captive wisecrackin' audience. Eerdmair keeps to the shadows mostly, unaccustomed to so many in his camp, but his shy smiles beam wide and free.
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