"Ludwig?" Redd asked as he noticed that Ludwig looked like he was staring at the empty air for a second.
Redd's voice came out cautious rather than loud, the kind of sound a man makes when he's not sure if he's interrupting something holy or something broken. The air still tasted faintly of scorched magic and river-damp rot, and the ground beneath their boots held that uneasy stillness that follows violence, as if it was waiting to see if the world was done shaking.
Ludwig had been moving with purpose a moment ago, and then, nothing. His eyes fixed on nothing at all, chin angled as though listening to a whisper no one else could hear. It wasn't a dramatic trance, just that subtle, wrong pause that made the hairs on Redd's arms lift.
"Hem, yeah," Ludwig then returned his gaze to Redd.
