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No booze? Damn, Ingrid sighed. That would have made all of this much simpler. Simpler for the stallion, who would have been able to sleep off his ailment, and for her, because booze makes everything simpler.
"You're in Helovia: Where brilliance is good, and melodrama is better... Or something. There's magic here, it makes you squirrely. Maybe that's what you're feeling. And I don't know what mushrooms you ate, but if you want, I can take you to see a doctor."
Her eyes scanned the stallion, whose legs were still shaking. "That doesn't mean I'll carry you," she added.
"If you want to come with me, we should probably get going. My bedtime is three hours after sundown. If I'm not asleep by then I get grumpy, and I occasionally kick people. Wait—" There was a small rustle from one of the trees above, "did you hear that?" Then, a tiny owl swooped through the air past them and flew off into the forest. She turned to stare after it, and shook her head. "Whatever, never mind."
