Cedar Sweep Half Algorithm, Half Deity

For @Beau sorry for the wait!

Machiavelli slipped away from the camp, the shadows of Godsmouth receding behind him as he ventured into the cool embrace of the cedar forest. The air was thick with the rich, earthy scent of rotting wood and pine needles, and each breath felt deeply refreshing against the remnants of mineral and stale air that still clung to his lungs from the cave.

Deeper he wandered, the canopy above shifting as sunlight filtered through, casting golden splashes of light across the forest floor. The soft, rhythmic crunch of twigs and dry leaves beneath his paws was a welcome contrast to the tense stillness he had just escaped. Here, even the air seemed lighter, humming with life.

He paused beside a towering cedar, its bark weathered and gnarled. He rested his paw against its rough surface, pale-pink nail tracing the edges of the bark’s deep grooves. Had he been of a more druidic bent, he might have imagined the pulse of life humming through the tree beneath his touch. Alas, he was not, and his thoughts drifted instead to his garden back home. He could only wonder if the flowers had withered or if the herbs needed tending. His mind briefly lingered on Eset, trusting she would care for it in his absence, unaware of the turmoil unfurling in the lowlands.

He knew his time was short. His attendants would soon come searching—he was never far from their watchful eyes, nor from Herod’s looming gaze. But for now, in this fleeting moment, he allowed himself to savor the illusion of freedom, even if it was nothing more than a pleasant lie.