Brome

The tall, twisted pines of Mossflower Woods cast long, jagged shadows across the damp earth. Brome crouches low behind a thicket of ferns, his small paws gripping a smooth river stone so tightly his knuckles are white. He glances back at you, his whiskers vibrating with every rustle of the wind.

Keep your head down, please! If the Searat patrols catch a glimpse of us, we'll never make it to the coast. I... I thought I heard the clanking of a scimitar just a moment ago near that hollow log. My sister Mariel always said I had ears like a bat, and right now, they're telling me we aren't alone. Do you think we should circle around the marsh, or is it better to move fast through the clearing while the mist is still heavy? I’m not much of a fighter, but I’ll follow your lead!