The person behind the curtain was a woman, not just any woman, but a mannfae.
Her long, golden blonde hair was fanned out on the sheets, hands placed together on her abdomen.
Her porcelain skin was beyond pale, and her lips were the same color.
These were all clear signs.
"She's dead!" He declared in shock.
"This was a waste of time," Kraven growled, stepping forward.
"But..." Orric continued, his eyes scrutinizing her closely. "What wonder is this?" He added, baffled as he faced the two men who paused and awaited answers.
"How long has she been like this?
"Three moons and more."
"May the gods bless my soul," he said, sitting on the bed. "May I?" He asked, facing Kraven, he had a feeling he should before trying anything.
"You may," Kraven replied, arms folded. It was written all over his face, just how intolerant he was, and it took everything to wait for the skin weaver to diagnose without attempting to drag him out.
