"Tara," Abel says, the name dropping from his mouth heavy with startled surprise, edged with concern. He recognizes her. He isn't half-bad with faces, which is one of his better qualities. He recognizes Tara, remembers her name, but more important is the expression on her face, her eyes dull and fish-like. She doesn't look well at all.

When he comes closer, he notices the mess on her face and knows, without having to think on it too deeply, what it is that it smells like. He's dealt with too much blood in his life already. But not so much that he could even for a moment consider ignoring it.

Something is wrong. He doesn't know where he's coming in on the situation or how he can help, but he can't ignore it.

"Tara," he says again, moving to stop her in the sidewalk without concern about the dog. "It's Father Nightroad. What happened? What's wrong?"