The Sentinels There were plants and birds and rocks and things

it was not long before the silhouette of his guest turned to rendered color. features became clearer, scents became stronger. he smelt of an air not known to the dryad, of foreign lands and untold stories.

he slowed his approach to an undemanding pace, steps easy at the sound of a gentler man's whine. if there was a dominant bone in barbatos' body, he'd likely broken it as a child.

"friend," he greeted with a good-natured smile and open embrace. "what brings you to the woodland?" he questioned, though not in a way that demanded answers. he sought only to aid, to offer his assistance if he was able.