Separate names with a comma.
He fell silent, squinting down at her. "When I saw him in there, he was just... a mess, Cal. Writhing, screaming... he was in this weird,...
She hesitated, avoiding his gaze. "Well... he was just hungry, you know? I didn't need to hit him."
He squinted at her, looking over at the sleeping Ben. "I made him forget," he said. "He was of no use to us remembering."
She nodded, looking up at him. "I'm alright," she said quietly. "Just... shell-shocked, I guess. I feel badly."
He laughed a little, moving to stand up with a small grunt. “Spend more time with him,” he said. “That’ll make it easy.”
She nodded, stealing one last glance at the troll before they left. The handle of the scythe was smooth in the places where her hands had worked...
“No,” he said flatly. “I don’t know. But... I don’t...” He clutched at his chest, his shirt wrinkling between his fingers as he stared off into...
She offered him the scythe as a walking stick. She glanced up at the blade, frowning at the troll drool before wiping it in the grass and then...
He didn’t respond at first, looking down at his hands. “I don’t know if this is salvageable, you know?” he said with a small shrug. “That might...
“Can we go?” she asked plaintively, looking up at the troll again. “I don’t... I’m worried he’s going to wake up again.”
He sighed, his eyes still on Ben’s sleeping form. “I’ve been going back and forth,” he said, resting his head back. “Trying to figure it all out.”
She looked down at him, wiping at the blood and pulling away, standing up. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Can you walk?”
He laughed a little, but there was no humor behind it. “About what?”
He glanced down at it, his expression distant. “It’s fine. It got shot, but I think it’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
The wound was minimal, but long, running down her arm. She kept her eyes on the troll, her face one of nervous anticipation.
He laughed a little, shaking his head. “Not just now, Cal. The way you talk about him is different than you ever talked about me. I don’t...” He...
She looked down at it in surprise. The adrenaline had hit her so that she almost forgot she had been hit, but she was now beginning to feel a dull...
It was impossible to read. “He makes you happier than I do,” he said after a moment. Again, it wasn’t a question.
She began to inspect his leg, giving him a small nod. “I’m... I’m... You almost died.”
“But he does make you happy,” Puck replied. It wasn’t a question. “The traitor makes you happy.”
