"I am my family are obliged to you, Yllianvarar." It is a woman's voice, measured, steady, but with an undertone of grief.
"No obligation remains," Anvar says. "This is a duty I chose myself. Because of my father."
Inric peeks out from behind the door frame and freezes in horror.
"I understand," the woman says. "You do your family credit." And behind her, eyes fixed on her trailing train, is the red kit, crouched low and clearly ready to pounce.
"Oh no," Inric hears from across the aisle, where Mina and Jakin are crouched. Jakin is clutching the third kit, the grey one. Three pairs of eyes fix on the hunting kit - and then Copper leaps out in front, and Pepper flops to her stomach in surrender. Anvar and his visitor walk on oblivious, and Inric, Mina and Jakin let out a sigh of relief in quiet harmony.