She sucked her teeth and playfully, but affectionately, slapped him on the arm. "Those aren't animals. Those are my friends. Mr. Squiggles is my familiar, so he's kind of an animal, but don't be fooled by his looks. He's a lot smarter than a ferret and he's hundred and five years old. Monk is short for homunculus. In magical terms, it means I made a friend--literally. He's made of clay, bits of this and that, and oh yes, about a pint of my blood so we're linked. My second familiar. Most mages only ever get the one, but not me. I'm lucky. Besides," she pouted, "poor Monk was kinda lonely before Mr. Squiggles came along. I tend to craft in my lab a lot."
Seeing the buffet before her, her eyes grew big. Tugging on his sleeve, she urged, "Come on, let's go get some cake. Ooo, and is that pie I see? It can't hurt to have a fully tummy before questing, right?"
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