The days that followed the chaotic monster encounter and the subsequent accidental fire were oddly calm, giving me a chance to finally catch my breath.
But, of course, Thalindra had decided that today was the day we were going to tackle the aftermath of the fox's "adventure."
Which, as it turned out, meant replacing everything he'd charred during his antics. And there was a lot to replace.
I stood in the middle of the sitting room, surveying the damage with a sigh. Scorched curtains hung limply from the rods, a section of the wall was blackened with soot, and the once-plush rug was now a ragged, half-burned disaster.
"This," I muttered, kicking at the ruined rug, "is why normal people don't keep fire-breathing foxes as pets."