Chapter Text
It was still dark, and no one was out. He was so close to the inn… but he collapsed, exhausted. The paper scrap was still in his hand.
“Crick? Crick! Little Lamb!!” Crick could hear a voice. He was stronger now than he remembered being when he fell asleep, and was able to open his eyes. He was in an inn, and leaning over him was his favorite face in Solistia. “Temenos…” He said, his voice gravelly. Crick’s eyes must have been playing tricks on him, because he could have sworn he saw tears in the inquisitor’s eyes. “Thank the gods you’re alright.” Temenos said. Crick smiled. He wasn’t gone yet. And maybe someday, he could fulfill his promise.