25
Five pairs of green eyes lit in horror at Anton’s invitation for the woodfolk to return with them to the Creeping Vine for dinner. The afternoon sun was sending slanted shafts of light through the trees of the Great Forest, which had reminded the four Vines that they would soon be needed at the inn for the evening rush and prompted the invitation.
“Sorry,” said Waterstone, seeing him stiffen. “Your inn looks very nice… um, solid, from what Tarkyn has shown us and from the very little we know of inns. But none of us has ever been inside a building.” He shrugged. “Besides, we are sworn to protect the secrecy of our kin, just as you now are. We would be exiled, condemned to a solitary existence, if we betrayed the existence of woodfolk by appearing in public.”
Anton’s eyes narrowed. “An
