Elayra’s gaze turned back to Ghent. The White Knight bent his head and gripped the bridge of his nose, his teeth clenched as he tried to keep his breaths metered.
	Elayra took her own quick breath at the expression on Ghent’s face as he looked to the jerky. This couldn't end well. Trying to warn Ghent against whatever reaction he’d have to it, she jerked her head to Drust, eyes begging him to keep quiet.
	Alas, he apparently didn’t notice her. Or didn’t care.
	She raised an eyebrow as Ghent shifted off his backpack to his hands and knees, the unhooked cloak fluttering off his shoulders. She couldn’t help but smirk; he'd been just fine before he knew what he was eating. But what amusement she got out of watching him overreact came to an abrupt end.
	Drust looked to Ghent with a snarl as the boy groaned out his complaints. His neck twitched. The pulsating lines at the corners of his eyes had stretched out over his skin, just visible in the gray morning light.
	Inhaling, her heart quickening, Elayra reached to draw her sword.
	But Drust was faster.
	In the span of two long, quick strides, the Knight closed the space between him and Ghent. He gripped the back of the boy’s neck and wrenched him up. Not giving him time to retaliate, Drust pressed his free arm across Ghent’s chest and pulled the boy’s back into him, his hold tight. His opposite gloved hand adjusted to clamp over Ghent’s mouth, cutting him off from spouting out any focus words.
	Elayra stood, frozen, in front of the two, her blue saber held uselessly before her. The red in Drust’s eyes pulsated with the lines on his face. The Curse had yet to completely consume him, the veined red of his irises still threatening to overtake his pupils, but that brought her little comfort.
	“Drust,” she tried, softly, struggling to keep her voice firm and even. She took a slow half-step toward the two. “He didn't—”
	“Silence, girl!” he snarled, a menacing, gravely undertone threatening to take over his voice. His gaze flicked to her feet as she moved to take another cautious step toward him. “Stay!”
	Elayra stopped. She glanced between Drust’s and Ghent’s faces. Disobedience meant risking further provocation. She grit her teeth and swallowed. Drust had been willing to go for the kill with Ghent in his Cursed state the previous night. If he lost to the Curse now, he could easily snap the boy’s neck before she could so much as twitch to help.
	“[i]Chocolate[/i] won’t sustain you,” Drust growled down at Ghent. His head twitched again, and his fingers involuntarily curled, claw-like, at Ghent’s face, digging into his cheek. “The luxuries you had on Earth are gone, [i]boy.[/i] That [i]toad[/i] is all we could manage that wouldn’t spoil. Refuse what food we have. And you’ll die.”
	With visible effort, Drust forced himself to release Ghent. He transferred his hand from the boy’s mouth back to behind his neck, and shoved Ghent away from him, hard.
	Elayra took the opportunity to hurry toward Ghent. She kept her sword raised, ready to defend him against Drust if the Knight fully snapped.
	“Adapt, boy,” he snarled, glowering at Ghent. His fists trembled slightly at his sides. “Or you won’t survive Wonderland.” Drust turned from the teens. Head bent, he again gripped the bridge of his nose, his breaths heavy. “Gather your things.”
	Keeping his back to his charges, Drust returned to his pack and katana. He knelt in front of them, but didn’t reach for them. He clenched and unclenched a fist at his side, the other tangling in his messy dark hair.
	Elayra watched him for a moment as he tried to steady his breathing. She glanced to Ghent as she reached up to unhook her cloak with her empty hand.
	“You alright?” she half-whispered, not daring to let her guard down quite yet. She tossed her cloak in the general direction of her pack, fully freeing her movements. Just in case.