CLATTER! CRASH—
The items the beastmen held clattered to the ground, one after another, filling the air with a piercing racket.
The Ravening Wolves stared at Evangeline, his one eye fixed on her, the white of it turning bloodshot. The alcohol in the bamboo tube he held gurgled out, and waves of its dizzying aroma billowed through the deathly silent thorn-vine hut.
Thorne glanced at the others. He could understand their excitement.
The fur on The Ravening Wolves's body quivered as he choked out, "My Lady Priestess, are… are you telling the truth?"
'He never imagined he would hear such words. Leave Thorncliff?'
For every Fallen Beastman at the foot of Thorncliff, the deepest desire was to leave this place. But they also knew it was an impossible dream. From the moment they were exiled, they and their descendants were condemned to remain here for all time.
