“After you deal with Teddy’s arse of a father,” Moira put in, munching her own pastry, oblivious to Saturn’s mood, and her being the cause of it (that said, it was important to note that she was not oblivious to Saturn by any stretch of the imagination). “We will go to the shops and buy the goat’s cheese of this region and some red onion marmalade with some fresh-baked Dellish loaves. Mum, before she died, would splurge on the cheese of Trevor’s Gorge for Nippenlas. And because of it, that was always my favorite holiday. We will sup on that and think we’ve reached the heavens.”

Her eyes skittered over Saturn, and she went on to ask him, but in a manner it seemed as if she was asking them all.

“Do you like goat’s cheese?”

Faunus and Teddy replied in the affirmative.

Saturn merely grunted.

Moira looked to the table.

Although he did not like seeing his friend downcast and wished to shake by the shoulders his other friend who was making her downcast, this was, to Teddy’s way of thinking, an excellent segue.

“And speaking of my father—” he began.

“Yes, speaking of his father, when we see him, can I cave his head in?” Saturn requested of Faunus.

Moira lifted her head and stared at Saturn with wide eyes.

She did this as Teddy beat back the urge to kick him under the table, for he was making no headway in winning her (the reason for his constant scowl) and expressing a tendency toward violence would not aid in this mission.

“I have not decided what we shall do,” Faunus decreed. “This is why we sit and drink thick goodness and eat pastries that will make our bellies round instead of going to his farm.”

“I would like to state at this point that visiting the Gorge has been a pleasant sojourn,” Teddy began. “But I do not think there is any need to see my father before we resume our journey home.”

And, in truth, to his surprise, it had been a pleasant sojourn.

He had found that he’d missed this town. The place where he had grown up. Especially the Gorge, somewhere he had gone often, for its beauty gave him succor.

The high, sheer, rugged brown rock covered mostly in fluffy moss leading down to the meandering green of the river, no matter how many times he had done so, it was always breathtaking to see.

And the town they were now in, at the western tip of the gorge, he had always liked, with its thatched buildings and plethora of shops selling all manner of things.

It was not as exciting or sprawling as the Thicket or as popular as The Lights.