He felt like a failure: his cow still gave no milk; two of his companions had gone missing; the girl he was enamoured with, was dating the bane of his life, who, was currently succeeding in a world take-over.
Admissions into Hell were still rising and the numbers of the 'fallen' were increasing too (the ones who never make it out of the Abyss).
Dismay was strangling any hope that he had left. Puck had even stopped finding mirth in Goober's quips about the little cat that still tailed him.
He needed a plan - or maybe a holiday - or both. It was difficult to stay focused when he already felt so defeated. Perhaps he had been living with ghosts for too long?
First enterprise was to find another tree-house - one with a meditation room and an enormous bath. A place to do some serious thinking in.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
Dismay was strangling any hope that he had left. Puck had even stopped finding mirth in Goober's quips about the little cat that still tailed him.
He needed a plan - or maybe a holiday - or both. It was difficult to stay focused when he already felt so defeated. Perhaps he had been living with ghosts for too long?
First enterprise was to find another tree-house - one with a meditation room and an enormous bath. A place to do some serious thinking in.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
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