11
When Shade opened his eyes, he found himself crouched in the dirt, the clearing he had stumbled into no longer there, wiped from existence. The trees huddled close around him now and the sky above was darkening to grey.
Night was coming. He was already late.
At fall of night
Wise spirits take flight.
A weak glow to one corner of the sky where the sun was setting pointed him in the right direction, and he hurried off, consciously keeping his eyes down, not wanting to risk glimpsing anything more.
The surrounding trees were silent, each knowing what he had almost seen. The Guardian. Forbidden for any to lay eyes upon—even the Others respected that much. He would likely face trouble when he got back to Nurtle. The trees had sent word ahead, of course. They couldn’t help themselves.
