Florence had a lot on her mind. Getting two ghost dragons, a flying cheetah, and a group of humans here was a great deal to tackle, what with the volcano network and all the flying in a strange land she’d never been to before. Then there was Thisbe to worry about. She’d been trying to stay calm about everything, to be the voice of reason, but this was a huge problem that she didn’t know how to solve. And with that problem came intense heartbreak all around—including her own. But she couldn’t dwell on it because she was leading this crew. And then Drock had shown up, staying close as they traveled but trying not to appear so. Was he under the Revinir’s mind control or not? That had given Florence one more thing to address. Luckily, Simber soon found Drock to be of his own mind.

When Fifer’s send component showed up in the cavelands, Simber and Drock were on the ground talking and Florence was in the midst of assigning everyone caves to settle into until further notice. Ghost dragons roamed around asking repetitive questions and making everything just a little more difficult, and Florence was eager to get back on Gorgrun, fly over to Ashguard’s palace, and figure this whole mess out.

Florence opened the message and read it, and realized she’d never responded to the head mage to let her know that they were indeed going to camp out at the cavelands as commanded… for the moment, at least. So she hastily wrote back:

Fifer,

We’re in the cavelands as you suggested. I’m coming to you later today on a ghost dragon to do a flyover and drop supplies. We’ll stay high in the air unless it looks safe to land. Don’t worry—those dragons can’t hurt us. Anxiously awaiting further instructions on how to get you out of there so we can find Thisbe.

Florence

She sent it off, then shouted out a couple of orders and went over to greet Drock. “It’s good to see you,” Florence said warmly to the dark purple dragon. “You’ve managed to keep yourself from succumbing to the Revinir’s roar. That’s quite a feat. Watching all of these dragons fly around aimlessly is quite a sad sight.” She patted Drock’s side. “How are you, old friend?”

Drock’s expression was as desolate as the cavelands. “I’m losing hope, Florence. How are you?”