Jade Fern Grove You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I

As the bare canopy swallowed her voice, Wylla lowered her head and breathed heavily. The anger that churned within her was sudden, a stark change from all the numbness that lately defined her days. For the first time in her memory, she felt sick with it. The molten heat of it scorched her throat. The brimstone taste of it bathed her tongue. It was all she could do to refrain from taking a mouthful of snow as though that could wash it all away.

The sight of Mahler doing anything but groveling and cowering before her only sparked her into a volcanic fury. Diminutive as she was, the top of her head was barely level with his lips when they each stood tall, but she felt like she deserved to tower over him now. What was it he had said about being unable to uproot himself again?

How many lies would he deliver to her ears?

Where, she snarled, clacking her teeth together in his face in a wicked promise of pain, did you take my children, you fucker?