"You sure it's fine that you only want one serving?" Melisande asked, glancing at Ludwig as she ladled stew into the worn wooden bowl in his hands.
He nodded once, offering a faint smile in return. "Yeah. I'm good with just one," he replied, but his eyes weren't on her. They kept drifting toward the trees, toward the darkness where Celine had vanished.
Melisande said nothing more, though the corner of her mouth tightened slightly.
"Don't worry about her, man," Robin said from beside the fire, his voice easy, mouth half-full of bread. He gestured vaguely toward the woods with a nod. "She's strong enough to take care of herself. Probably just feeding."
"Yeah," Ludwig murmured. His reply was hollow, distracted. He turned his attention instead toward the sleeping bag on the other side of the fire, where Redd had begun to stir at last.
