"Richard is gone," is what she comes to, words heavy. There is no real way to soften them. The bottles of new-made tincture clink as she sets them one after the other into a wooden case.

When Holden had gone, Richard had been there. Held her, regardless of his own discomfort and perhaps grief.

Derrica has been thinking of that often, since Loxley told her what had happened.

"He was our Head Healer," among other things. Her hands pause over the glass, looking over to Strange to take in his reaction. See what thoughts might be visible on his face.