“Oh no.” I grimaced. “Can we not and say we did?” “Keet is your familiar,” Linus scolded me. “You must stop viewing him as a pet.” “Your owl tried to eat him,” I shrilled. “How can he do his job if he’s terrified for his life?” “He’s already dead,” Linus stated flatly. “There’s dead,” I told him, “and then there’s digested-in-stomach-acid dead.”
