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    Summary

    “Hey. So. Uh. I … can’t do this week’s challenge.” Mog has cornered fWhip on the porch of the beacon shop.

    fWhip blinks, and dismisses the stack of moss blocks he’d been holding. “What? Of course you can, bud!” A bemused sort of smile lifts his face. “You can do anything if you just believe in yourself and try your best!”

    “No, I mean— I need an exemption. I’m— Uh. My heat is soon? I think? And I don’t know for sure so maybe you don’t need to worry about this at all but I’ve been prepping and I’ve read that when you’re alone for a really long time and then suddenly you’re not—”

    “Ohh,” fWhip says. “Huh. Well, I’m pretty sure it’s fine if you don’t participate, you just won’t get the coins. But you should really talk to the Fates about that kind of thing.” He nods to himself and shoves moss into the barrel in front of him.

    Mog stops, drawn up short. “Are— Wait. Are you not the Fates?”

    Language:
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