Warren was going to have to have words with the Estate's gardener.

... Well, okay, granted, it was his own fault for flubbing the landing. He'd picked a tree branch that was perhaps not sturdy enough to hold the weight of a grown man, even if his bones were hollow, and it had snapped underfoot, sending him toppling through several more branches ( Read more... )

Warren still hadn't gone back to his room.

Yesterday, when the embrace of the taint had fled his mind, he'd fled in turn, to the woods. He felt like a monster, looked like a monster. He'd hurt his friends and had nearly killed Karla, and when he found himself in his right mind, still covered in leather and jagged edges, he'd run. He wasn't up for ( Read more... )