Verrin swept ahead of them with a showman's flourish, threading through the crowded tavern as if he were gliding rather than limping. Haze, Elena, and Adam followed closely behind, each of them tensed in their own way. The Bonejaw Shack was loud, unpredictable, alive with a dangerous sort of energy. The kind of place where conversations could turn into bloodshed with a single wrong look. The kind of place where secrets breathed in the ale and shadows sharpened themselves on whispers.
Verrin led them to a long, uneven table near the center of the room. Several creatures already sat there, clustered in mismatched seats. Some were vaguely human, others were distinctly not. One had bark patterned across its skin like a tree, another had insect-like folds along its arms, and another wore thick goggles though it had no eyes to cover. All of them turned sharply when Verrin approached, then softened into nods, shrugs, or curious tilts of the head.
