Crispin declared, slurping the last of his strawberry, pineapple, cantaloupe smoothie with exuberant appreciation. The straw made a hollow sucking sound against the bottom of the glass that left him whining mournfully. Cracking my jaw, I strived to pop my ears. Since I awoke, everything sounded like I was underwater. I wondered idly if lycanthrope were susceptible to distemper, parvo or bordetella. “There’s more in the fridge,” I told him, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. With a hissed ‘yes’ of delight, Crispin hastened to the fridge for another helping. I stuck my tongue out at Icarus for doubting my ability to instill healthier eating among his ragtag pack of waifs and strays. “Let’s go, Thale!” Caius called as he ran out the front door. “You didn’t eat,” Icarus said, disapprovingly. “I nibbled while I cooked.” Grabbing a link of sausage, I rolled it up in a pancake and turned for the door, but Icarus had other plans, using the straps to my bag to reel me in.
