The end of the whip farthest from the handle fell onto the grass with a soft pat.
Everyone fell silent—everyone except Natiaveda and Maynie, who were still crying out about their supposedly “smashed” toes. Against the sudden silence, their cries sounded especially jarring.
Leif rolled the small fragment of whip left in her palm into a ball. While no one was looking, she flicked it into the nearest brazier. The fire crackled, and flames swallowed the little ball. After an almost imperceptible whiff of scorched odor, it vanished completely.
Miss Cow bent down, picked up the...
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