"Dante… I think that's the 8th one so far..."
"Maybe you should stop—"
"That's none of your business!"
In the camp, Dante smoked his 8th cigarette in front of Michael, Mira, and Elizabeth. His mask was raised up slightly, only enough to reveal the mouth and nose.
They knew about that herb and the addiction it could cause. In fact, Michael himself was a former addict.
They tried to stop him from smoking it, but his excuse was always "Only one more won't hurt," and so he continued.
"Anyway, ignore the herb for now." Dante exhaled blue smoke and asked: "Why is no one sending help? Did they abandon you?"
Mira shrugged: "Who knows. I heard that another kingdom might join the war with Uldor and our kingdom is now more concerned about them. Additionally, they already sent some help… just not for us. We can only wait for now."
