Sanctuary doesn’t allow for an excuse. “Thanks, sister,” he says as he thrusts the bushel of squash into her arms. He turns around and busies himself with collecting something from the ground. “Alright… first thing’s first, huh? We should clean up that wound.” He stands up with an armload of giant sunflowers and begins to march out of the garden.
“Fine,” Goma sighs.
“This way,” Sanctuary says as Goma casts a reluctant glance over her shoulder.
