Seaella watched the two Dracon’s converse, not fully caring about their conversation. Still standing a few feet from the table, she slowly inched her way toward the only table of a normal height in the manor, her gaze switching between the dracons to the fruit and back again. She froze when Serapis looked toward her, the thought of the food momentarily put from her mind.
	She stared at him at his question, pulling her sister’s staff closer to her and trying to steel her expression, as she had seen her sister do on many occasions. Alas, the efforts proved in vain. Did she dare tell him about their pursuers? Would doing so risk them being turned away from their help? Would [i]not[/i] telling them end even worse? She glanced uncertainly up at the stone topping the staff, its powers dormant in her hands, as if hoping it would answer her silent questions.
	“We,” she began quietly. She paused to swallow. “We were being followed,” she confirmed carefully. “We think we lost them, but we can’t be sure.”