The Sentinels If forests could talk, what would they say?

Wraenbourine—geez, what a mouthful. Then again, pot meet kettle. Old Lord Vercingetorix, he replied, matching her airs, though laughter punctuated each syllable. But Verx, for short.

He listened to her story with interest, though, naturally, his eyes wandered a bit. She was beautiful, and must have been in life, too. They were around the same age—why hadn't she crossed his path before?

Then again, she talked a lot. He wouldn't ever be able to get a word in edgewise, and that was no bueno, even if the lovemaking was phenomenal.

That's sad, Verx remarked, giving the charred remnants a glance before returning his gaze to Wraen. I lived for a while in the forest, too, though I was born and raised by the sea. And when I came down here as Cheka—uh, that's like, Bodyguard #1—for Heda and her pack down here, they lived by the sea.

And I dunno, he went on, shrugging. I just really like the vibe. I always have. The ocean goes on and on past the horizon; the possibilities are endless.