Ashton put his book down and sat up when Barclay started petting the dog. Why was he talking to it like that? Why was he touching him that way? The dragon scowled at the Black Dog and rumbled unhappily with jealousy.
Sorin saw Barclay's approving look and that was all he needed to feel good about what he'd done with his time in Barclay's absence. He was eagerly ready to tell Barclay the other creatures he'd had tattooed and the ones on parchment or scrolls that weren't tattooed, but then Barclay's sleeve caught and two days of soaking herbs and careful spells went to waste all over the druid's floor.
"Barclay!" Sorin reached for the witch first, worried he might have been burned. The dog skittered away, getting clear of the mess with his hackles up and head down, growling. Sorin caught Barclay's arm, potion splattered on them both. "Are you alright?"
The smell of the brew was overwhelming now and Ashton recoiled, using his arm to shield his nose.