[h3]The Hunter's Dream[/h3]
“I'd think so,” Gerlinde replied to Ophelia's question, specifically as to whether the Dream would recreate the creature bits she had eaten and carried in her bag. “If it didn't, we'd all show up naked and unarmed any time we came back here... which, as fun as that sounds, hasn't happened.” She shrugged. “But I can't taste them, no. I suppose it's not [I]that[/I] much worse than making their blood spray into my open wounds... or downright drinking their blood, even. Eh, who cares.”

When the turn came to Torquil, he turned to her and blinked... but otherwise it would probably be challenging for Ophelia, or any of them, to read any kind of emotion out of his altered, three-eyed face. A lot of thoughts went through his head while Ophelia spoke, including [I]How do you know that?[/I], [I]How long have you known that?[/I] and [I]Why didn't you mention that before?[/I] But perhaps luckily she changed the subject before those stray thoughts had time to crystallize into questions he felt comfortable speaking aloud.
“I got a look at, uh, [I]her[/I] before I died,” Torquil told her, his altered voice only somewhat easier to read emotion from than his face, but his tone only betrayed a trace of annoyance. “The hammer isn't really long enough to get to her, uh... weird, long butt without getting hurt from all the flailing things. So I'll have to go for her front. Unless... should I switch back to the axe? That might be long enough.”

Both Gerlinde and Torquil got branded with the Mask Rune anew, and it seemed that they were just about ready to get back to it.