"Time to depart," he said, the words carrying finality.
He adjusted Faelyn on his shoulder despite her struggles.
She reached for the vines one last time.
They responded, wrapping around his legs.
He walked through them without slowing, scales forming, plant matter tearing like paper.
[Fur. I should be able to DO more. Should have combat protocols. Defensive measures. WEAPONS. Something OTHER than just plant control and me screaming warnings at you!]
The last thing she saw was the clearing full of bodies.
Warriors she'd taught metalworking to.
Warriors who'd watched her demonstrations.
Warriors who'd welcomed the panthers because she'd asked.
Now paralyzed or dead.
And beyond them, the village.
Silent.
Watching.
Unable to help.
Roshan and Nyx struggling on the ground among the fallen.
