The old woman on the left listened to the other's endless prattle, seemingly unmoved. This perfectly matched Ruger's first impression of her. But when she heard those arguments about fate, those utterly contemptuous put-downs, even that declaration of casting it aside like a worn-out shoe, something deep within her was finally touched. Subtle changes began to appear in her expression, and the wrinkles on her face slightly magnified those tiny shifts.
Meanwhile, the apprentice old woman on the right was still chattering away. She had probably been stifled here alone for far too long.
Yet amusingly, the only being to appear before her in countless years—the one person she could be said to converse with as an equal—was herself.
Ruger took it all in. Once again, events had developed beyond his expectations. He cared about only one thing: could he still leave this place alive and return outside? Could he still drink Layden's meat stew? There was still plenty of python meat left from last time.
"You are me, no matter how much you despise it."
The aloof old woman on the left finally spoke, just as briefly as expected.
"And you will not succeed," she added.
Such absolute certainty made the apprentice old woman burst into laughter.
The sight of that laughter made the aloof old woman frown. She could not help studying the other through that ribbon-like ghostly glow.
"You should mind your bearing," she said with a frown. "What you have thrown away is not merely your own dignity."
The apprentice old woman's laughter only grew louder.
Watching them, Ruger remembered that when he and Layden had first met the old woman, she had pointed out the problems with their posture when bowing. Layden knew more about such things; he had even made Ruger's two furry legs