Very nearly

The next few days are busy - as busy as Lavorra can be, given the exhaustion creeping into her bones and spirit.

But she works hard - they all do - to cleanse this area of the Delwald as best they can, and gather up the survivors of the ordeal.

Those Daemonspawn that did not flee upon sensing Kulrakan’s demise are dealt with swiftly by the band of vengeful Spell-rangers. For her part, Lavorra stays close to Melira, both out of suspicion of the Dark Elves’ motives where the Sorceress is concerned, and because she simply has no strength left to fight.

Many of the victims of the incursion are ready to give birth - within the accelerated cycle of their Daemonic pregnancies - and Lavorra works tirelessly there too, seeing the Human and Elven women through it all as best she can.

It is a traumatic time for everyone, though Lavorra struggles daily with the guilt of those feelings, knowing how lucky she’s been compared to the Daemons’ other victims.

On the fourth day, she stands with Skrain at the edge of the simple camp the survivors have made in the Delwald.

“I can’t tempt you to stay?” He asks, with an understanding smile.

She smiles back, stepping in and wrapping her arms around him tightly by way of a reply.

“It’s good. Really good, what you’re doing.” She murmurs, looking up at him from under a thicket of crimson hair.

He holds her, his eyes clear and peaceful, no shadows on his Daemonic visage. He looks tired, but in a healthy, well-worked way. “It’s the least I can do, watching over them. I should have done more, before.”

“If you had, you might be dead.” She says simply. Leaning up on her toes, she kisses his jaw, her lips staying parted, wanting more, but not wanting to push. “The uh, Daemon-kids will need someone to teach them right from wrong. And the other mothers… they trust you now. They’ve seen the kindness I’ve seen.”

“Not quite what you’ve seen.” He gives her a mischievous grin, though his eyes show the depth of his gratitude for her words.

“Do you have to go right away? Perhaps we could have a proper good-bye.” He looks down at her, holding her close, and murmurs her name like a prayer. “Lavorra.”

Oh yes please.

She glances beyond the trees, knowing that Mel and Zeya, and the Spell-rangers will be almost ready to depart…