LorranMylomon intercepted them before they returned to the base. The sun had dipped near the horizon.
“What is that?” the male said in a tone that demanded answers.
“Dinner. My mate took the killing shot,” Lorran announced proudly.
“Did she?” A questioning look replaced his signature scowl. In response, Wyn made finger guns, complete with sound effects, which made Mylomon resume his scowling.
“Because we are such good friends, you will not object to butchering and preparing a fire while I tend to my injuries. There is more than enough to feed us all.” Lorran dropped the beast at Mylomon’s feet.
“We are not good friends,” Mylomon said. “I will do this only because I am tired of rations.”
“But you do not deny that we are friends. Can this day be any better?” Free from the burden of car
