"The Meighty Nein," Caleb replied, "a motley crew of misfit little shits who get into a lot of trouble and do a little good from time to time."
Squeezing the hand on his shoulder, Caleb pressed the token of the Platinum Dragon into Molly's other hand. His fingers traced up the arm of the familiar coat, last seen billowing in the wind and marking the grave of his fallen friend. While they were head to head, he reached out and hung his fingers onto one of those beautiful, curved, jeweled horns.
"Frumpkin hat mich zu dir gebracht," he breathed with a smile. The cat purred at the statement. He dropped down from Caleb's knee and laid between the two of them, front paws crossed, eyes closed and smiling. "He never forgets a face."
Caleb noticed that his chest felt less tight and he seemed more at peace than when he had began his frenetic search through the market.