[He was confused before, but the announcement has put him in a foul mood. No, Byleth, he doesn't remember.]

Are they serious? Moving people around in their sleep and then pronouncing the death of a kid . . . What kind of a school is this?

[What kind of a school is Garreg Mach?

He exhales through his nose.]

That slipper—where did you find it?

And we don't know whom they belong to.

If nobody claims them by the end of the day, we're going to have to find the owner ourselves.

[He nods, partly in agreement and partly to comb through his disheveled hair with his fingers.]

We can't risk it. If we let this go, it may happen again. There are too many kids here.

[He cranes his neck to look at the bites, scowling.]

The geese and squirrels must have been nipping away at me all night.

[He shrugs a shoulder, adjusting his grip on his sword as he does.]

Don't bother anyone. I'll clean them myself.

No, I'll do it. You can't see them, but they're all over my body. I'll take care of them when I'm washing the river water off.

[And they certainly look worse for wear than before. But no, there are only minute tears in the occasional spread of fabric.]

Geese are strong. But the bites aren't as severe as the ones you can see. They'll probably just bruise.