A storm had begun a short time ago, just as she predicted. The rain pelted down heavily, soaking up the dress Neveah had on and she was already completely drenched. In a distant thought, she lamented the prospect of having to change into another clothing to look decent enough to appear before the infernal dragons, but that was a worry at the very bottom of her steadily growing list.
Menarx had been gone for how long now? A half hour? And Neveah had not moved an inch from where she was. Her mind repeatedly supplied the reminder of the assurance she provided Xenon before he allowed her to leave his side. She had said she would not be gone long and at this point, she knew she had already been gone for long enough.
