Hushed Willows witcher

The moment of silence lingered, unassisted by Olive’s stowed tongue, and in the absence of information — or any sort of color or detail, he played his cards so close to his chest — her imagination began to fill in the blanks. At first she imagined him to be your average, goodnatured fellow; a dime a dozen, as they were. The sylph almost immediately knew this to not be true, for the picture in her mind did not match the picture in front of her, so she thought of him as the opposite. A war monger, bloodthirsty and seeking to ruin her sanctity here. She did not know which one frightened her more. 

Olive bit her lip as the stranger began his subtle inquisition. She was not afraid to tell him the truth of things, for most others respected the sanctity of this place, and the shakti woman had to trust that the past’s patterns would also speak for the future. Olive also believed that Elysium’s values and motives stood up to even the harshest of criticisms, so without hesitance she gave comment. “No…”  came her soft whisper.

Oh, but how to convey the godliness of the willows? The woman returned his discerning eye, and continued in a slow easy tone. “This is a place where the sick can convalesce, where children can grow safely, where the tired can regain strength and where the elderly can rest on their laurels.”   The woman then turned her finespun muzzle to the canopy above them — only a few snowflakes made it through the thick layer of willow branches.They drifted down and danced with the weeping branches, more of a true delight than anything.  “The winter does not touch us here.”  she commented, almost to no one. “See?” 

Brought back to reality, Olive raised a questioning eyebrow at the silvered warrior. “Unfortunately, we are not the fittest of fare to sate the hunger of you and your hounds.”  A small smile hinted at the jocundity of it. “The rest of your group. Where… are they?”