Xenn breathed deeply. Hours of running had spent the old Spellweaver’s physical strength. Spellweavers’ greatest ally, the wandering sun Andreas, toggled a bit closer in the sky. Was an unpredictable and infrequent Approximation imminent? Sometimes Andreas teased! The gray sun’s rays had immeasurable effect unless the bizarre sun approached the land. Scattered beams of grayness filtered through the thick red and orange leaves above him, reached the Drelve’s face, gave him a bit of energy, and drew his eyes to the sky. Xenn basked in the growing gray light for a moment. His joints still hurt. Age challenged the rejuvenating powers of Andreas. Xenn closed his eyes. Perhaps a moment’s sleep… Not to be…
Alo’s alarmed voice split the air, “Drolls! We are discovered! To the trees! Make ready!”
Xenn stood and looked around the stately red oak. Several Drelves deftly scurried up orange elms and red oaks. Five Drelvish archers stood shoulder-to-shoulder and aimed well-made bows toward the small meadow. Large menacing wolf-faced figures emerged from the thick woods to the west.
Standing nearby, Alo cried, “Fire!”
benjamintowe 