Shadewood the wood's labyrinth

It was new, or maybe too fresh to understand until the shape and scent of Qvasir faded into soil and oak.

A profound and sinking dread. His mouth had opened for just a second before falling closed, a morose expression sweeping over him. It was better to let go, Cormorant convinced himself.

He straightened up, turning away, and slinking off the way he had been traveling. It was better.