Hushed Willows I keep an eye on the chamber door

Olive still believed her harsh tone had been warranted, in order to snap the boy out of his days, but because she was an empath, she still keenly registered how it made him feel. She winced, noting how the young man did end up complying, just as she had asked. He had calmed himself, at least somewhat, and appeared to offer her the slightest sliver of his trust. She did not deign to touch him again, but she did can’t her head forwards and whisper, a voice meant only for the two of them.

“I promise. It is the thing I am most sure of,” the druid assured the boy. It was painful to Olive that she could not whisk him away into the sanctity of the willows, for on these borders she felt so naked and exposed — if any others were in pursuit of him, he could be spotted easily, and then she might not be able to keep her promise. He was a hairball of frenzied nerves and energy. Anyone who was able to perceive these things, even slightly, would pick up on him in a minute; but clearly, he was not in a mood to be jostled.

“You must be forthcoming,” she inquired in a most serious tone. “Are you being followed?”