The woman leaned against an oak tree, bent over, vomiting with her back to the others. Every couple of breaths, she would let out a moan, and her companion's worries and pats were of no use. The collected dewdrops did not stop the discomfort on her body, and her increasingly dejected posture raised the concern of her good friend. "She's never been like this before..." The consoler, with a cry in her voice, looked this way, her eyes filled with grievance.
Loveday felt extremely uncomfortable, and Irason's gaze only made him feel more uneasy. What have I done? I haven't wronged her. He couldn't understand the situation but felt like he was being treated as a criminal, which made Loveday couldn't help muttering to himself.
"Perhaps she just overate..."
The gaze of the Green Dragon Priest became even harsher, like the blade of a guillotine judging a death row inmate, chopping down on Loveday.
