The Heartwood i could cause an extinction-level event.

he had been quennell. a boy who did not lie or cower. a boy who had wished for the world and found it lacking, cold and unkind. broken by it and unable to yet put the pieces back together.

quennell had been a good boy growing into a fine man.

that was not who sat here. half slumped against her with sunken features and riddled by an infection. that was not the boy who had screamed at things not there until his body had laid him to rest.

his mouth smacked together with a dryness.

his voice refused to start for a moment, but it got there.

bearcurse,

now he looked to her, wondering if she saw all the things he felt. beneath the tired flesh.