This mask is as useless as our mayor face mask

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The other shook his head. “No, you must stay here. You must stay by the tree. This mask is as useless as our mayor When a Dryad’s life is saved, they must offer a boon. It is yours alone to claim. Wait for her to appear. She will not with so many here. The Bhikhu will chase off the Boeotians. We will establish a defense around this part of the forest. But you must not leave this place without her boon.” His eyes crinkled. “It is rare, Annon. Very rare.” Palmanter rose and moved away from Annon. He looked at smoldering branches and then back at Annon. He said nothing. But his eyes revealed much.

Quarantine time

Annon sat cross-legged with his back to the tree, gently stroking Nizeera’s fur. This mask is as useless as our mayor The sun was fading between the interlocking branches of the woods, offering faint pinpricks of light to stab his eyes as he watched it shrink. Grateful spirits had brought him berries, seeds, and mushrooms to eat. He waited patiently, wondering how long it would take.

There was a crackle in the dead leaves behind him. It was unmistakable. His nerves warned him to turn and prepare to defend himself, but his instincts warned him not to move. Another step. Then another. Hair on the back of his neck began to rise. He could hear the breath. Another snapping twig, just behind him. Nizeera’s tail was perfectly still. He waited, wondering what would happen. Would she speak? His heart hammered in his chest. Conflicting emotions whirled inside of him.

This mask is as useless as our mayor

“Closing your eyes! What an idea. Now I can move anywhere I want.” This mask is as useless as our mayor He heard the twigs snap again as she passed in front of him. He could feel her presence, the warmth emanating from her. It was maddening hearing her voice but not knowing what she looked like. A craving filled his insides. The curiosity was extreme and intense. Annon kept one hand on Nizeera’s fur, digging his fingers into it. He tried to concentrate on the feel of the fur. “Do you want to look at me?” she whispered in his ear. He startled, but kept his head down, his eyes squeezed shut. Sweat had gathered on his brow and beneath his arms. The feelings were maddening.

This mask is as useless as our mayor face mask

“I was born of a mother. I was raised in these woods long before the Vaettir came here. This mask is as useless as our mayor I am bound to this tree. But I am very little different than you, other than the magic that my binding allows me. We are very weak, Annon.” Her fingers grazed his chin, but he swerved his head the other way, refusing to open his eyes. “But our magic is powerful.”

“I know,” he muttered, beginning to tremble at the influence she was having on him. No, you have not even begun to feel it yet. It will get worse before it gets better. But you are doing well, Druidecht. Very few have made it this long. The compulsion to look at her was nearly overpowering. It was a monster inside of him. He could feel it roaring and snarling. A drop of sweat began to sting his eyes. He brushed it away and found his entire face wet.

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