It's hard to make out the valley in the mist, but the forest makes its colors stand out. The rocks are rooted in the reddish-brown soil, and the gray-white cliffs are like skeletons.
"Did you see it?"
A hand protruded from the leaves. It was pale and swollen, and its fingers were covered with calluses. This is the hand of a hunter, and he is still a young newcomer. Fallen leaves were flying near the limbs, and the grass seed fairy in the palm kept struggling. Like a fungus in a cemetery, Valema thought, I'm going to break it. He noticed that many young people's eyes were following the hand, and he felt even more annoyed.
"Did you see that?" someone repeated. His arms made a saluting gesture, and he flexed the leaves with his elbow joints in a showy manner. "Did you see it?"
"I saw it, I saw it!" Pan roared, "Shut up!" The others were too frightened to say anything. "We are coming as planned. Valema, Debra, you go to the temple. Ahonan, you and I go north to the Triangle Swamp."
Debra nodded and jumped up a chestnut tree. Valema frowned: "Temple?" This is not within the scope of patrol.
"The priest wants Debra to go there." Pan explained.
Only I don't know, Valema thought. The oil-rubber little human didn't tell him either. This fact annoyed him greatly. "Then why should I go?"
"It's not safe to be alone."
Debra blinked, disapproving of the statement, but she didn't argue. "Good luck, everyone." This female patrol member has gentle long brown hair and eyes as hazy as an elk. She was not Valemar's kin, but Valemar would pursue her if she was willing to broaden her mate selection.
After they left, Pan's eyes finally locked on the arm and the big grass-seed goblin: "Oren!"
The arm waved.
"Ahonan." He turned his head and said to the remaining nature elf, "Can you go to the Triangle Swamp by yourself? It's not very peaceful there recently, just take a look from a distance. It's not worth wasting energy on the traitor."
Ahonan was a taciturn guy. In Valema's memory, he rarely expressed opinions, even when faced with the task of patrolling the Triangle Swamp alone. It wasn't the first time, but he shook his head. "We'd better take him with us, Pan."
"The Triangle Swamp is very dangerous." The leader refused without hesitation, "How can we do it with a kid?"
"Then change the place." Ahonan suggested. "It's impossible for someone to sneak into the forest from the Triangle Swamp. There's no point in patrolling. Let's take him to the Autumn Leaves Walkway."
“I would rather send him back to Viteshwasa!”
"This is his rite of passage, Pan."
"So I have to take it seriously? Those rituals created by humans to express themselves, why do they always have to be applied to us?" Pan complained, "Heather believers have their own rules."
"We follow the guidance of the Holy Lady."
"The saint has lost her head."
"A wise man would not complain to others under her rule. Now, Pan, don't say that again."
A conservative old bastard, Valema thought to herself. They are too old to bear the slightest change. He didn't like Ahonan, but he didn't expect that the other party would change his usual silence for Pan. This is really not an easy task. As for Pan, Valema never had any hope for his attitude. Ever since the Holy Lady decided to open the Blue Forest to admit foreign races, whispers would emerge under every tree in Viteshwasa. The elves could not bear the defilement of the holy land by natural destroyers, and refused to recognize the legitimacy of the Holly Agreement. They protested in front of the stone monument and threw green fruits at the priest's temple, but no one responded. Fruits with added magic power cannot break stones. Pan's attitude affected nothing, and neither did Valema herself.
But he has a way to do his best for the goddess. Every plant and tree in the forest is home to the grass-seed goblins and the little oil-rubber humans. They are so well-informed that even the wood goblins cannot compare. The difference between Valema and his kindred is that he can put aside his pride and establish a good relationship with them. The friendly feedback was very generous. As early as forty years ago, Valema passed the coming-of-age ceremony and joined the patrol as a scout. He collected every careless remark from his companions and presented them all to his superiors. In the end, the results of his efforts will be placed on the Blue Saint's case, and the patrol team will rely on it to eliminate dissidents.
He captured the conversation between Ahonan and Pan, and also paid attention to Oren's movements. This kid is not likable at all, otherwise he wouldn't be thrown here. Valema, the patrol, had already submitted Pan's private heretical remarks to his superiors. They were intentionally or unintentionally isolated from the social circle, hoping that they would be out of place. A sense of otherness enables them to self-correct. After all, Saint Valoran is not an outsider. Few people can enter the forest to spread ideas, and in a closed country, Pan and Ahonan can't find helpers.
They couldn't even find a successor. Valema knew very well that a child like Oren would not question the Holy Lady. The conservatism of an old-school person naturally conflicts with his personality. They will listen to the old man telling stories and then laugh behind his back. In the eyes of Oren and his companions, Saint Valoran should belong to the forest race, not the natural elves, druids or wood elves. It is ridiculous to exclude foreigners because of their bloodline. No one would do this. Mystery determines status, and this is only natural.
"Valema," she called his name, "you go too fast, faster than me."
He came to his senses. Debra is looking at him with her gentle eyes, but as long as you have seen her ferocious posture when hunting, you will understand that personality and temperament are not directly related. The nature priests all assigned tasks related to the temple to Debra. Pan was worried about her safety. No wonder she was angry.
But Debra is really attractive. Should I stay away from her just because she is not a natural spirit? He couldn't understand conservative thinking. "I was a little distracted," Valema replied.
"Distracted? You are about to walk into the river." The girl laughed.
"Maybe it's because there are things around me that are more attractive to me than the road beneath my feet."
"Like a squirrel?" The animal scurried into the leaves. "You're too nervous, Valema."
He doesn't deny it. "Why are we going to the temple?" Valema lowered her head to avoid a branch, "Are you going to become a high ring?"
"No, it's not." Debra tucked the ends of her hair behind her ears, and she wore pearl pendants on her ears. It swayed from side to side and kept swinging. "It's something else." Obviously she didn't want to say it.
"We all have our own things to do. I bet Oren's bar mitzvah won't go so smoothly."
"He's very talented."
"What aspect are you referring to?" Valema knew this young man of his own race. He was naughty and energetic, and was not willing to put in any effort in training. "Being good at scaring people doesn't make him an assassin."
"We all have our youth. When he gets a mysterious profession, he won't be so naughty."
Yeah? Valema doesn’t think so. But before he had a chance to speak again, Debra waved her hand and slowed down. "We're here. You better not get distracted in front of Heather, Valema. Not even the squirrels."
I never get distracted by squirrels. he thought. The reason why most elves think they are superior to others is because of their long lifespan and beautiful appearance in terms of human aesthetics. However, as far as the entire mysterious field is concerned, elves actually have nothing to be proud of. Dragons and elemental beings have longer lifespans than elves, and aesthetics always vary from person to person. "In order to gain a sense of superiority, rabbits will look in the mirror with frogs." Lady Saint said, "But female frogs will not like rabbits." Of course, Debra is not a frog, and Valema does not feel that she is superior. The only thing that hinders them is It's status.
The temple is built between two oak trees, with the tops covered with fallen leaves. Heather seemed to be trying to hide it from anyone. Valema and Debra stepped into the entrance, the light blocked by the wind-carved black stone. They were in a natural palace, but they were surrounded by cold, ancient stone pillars. They were tall or short, and were oddly distributed, but they were probably formed in a circle. Vines cling to the stone platform and moss grows into the steps. There's an almost ominous atmosphere here.
Maybe it was the excessive tranquility that caused him to have an illusion. "You have to go in alone," Valema said. "Don't be afraid, Debra."
"Heather, I'm not Oren." She smiled at him, "I will be back, so don't be afraid."
Does she really have no idea what I'm thinking? "I hope we are not afraid. Go back quickly." Valema didn't want to stay where he was, but he couldn't go deep into the temple. Mystery determines status. He has just changed his profession and is not qualified to touch more natural mysteries. And Debra...it's hard to say that she is much more mysterious than Valema, but the priests believe that she has a talent. baffling. he thought. No matter what that talent is, I won't be needed for the rest of the patrol anyway.
He waited where he was, listening to the news from Oren. Young people's rites of passage can be quite eventful, and Valema captures Pan's rants from time to time. Ahonan said nothing, only the bowstring sounded. Valema was intoxicated by the feeling of knowing everything about the situation on the other side despite being far away from the mountains. The Saint of Cang interprets the stone tablet and makes the small oil-rubber people the eyes and ears of the forest. He has reason to support her wholeheartedly. This is a state that conservatives and novices will never reach. They are destined to be eliminated...
"Valema." He heard his companion's voice, filled with fear. "Help!"
Valema turned around, but could not see her. what happened? Are there attackers? Most likely the temple collapsed, everything here seems to be old. But he didn't notice anything unusual. "Debra?"
"Help!"
This was not the sound he heard, it was the message sent to him by the little oil-rubber humans. Valema stared down the dark corridor, behind which Debra was calling for help. I'm afraid I heard it wrong. There was silence in the temple, or rather, there was only the sound of footsteps. If she did scream, he would hear her.
"Help!"
The real scream almost made him jump, as if someone was tugging on his ears to force high-pitched sounds. "Run away, Valema!"
"Debra? Where are you?" But there was still no movement in the temple. Valema looked around uneasily. The buildings and forests were still quiet, but now they seemed to be cast by a strange shadow. The breeze stirred the crown of the tree, and the branches scratched each other. "Debra?" he shouted one last time and slowly exited the temple.
Suddenly, a pale arm dropped in front of him, and its five fingers without nails dug into his face. Valema screamed and fell back, drawing out the dagger and stabbing in front of her eyes. But he had no luck hitting the target. A hand as cold as ice grasped his shoulder, and Valema subconsciously poured out magic power, but the huge force still dragged him back to the temple. The shadow of the stone pillar fell over him.
"Help!" Debra was still screaming.
Fear overcame him, and Valema's mind seemed to freeze. He opened his mouth wide and stared hard, trying to see clearly the tall silhouette that suddenly appeared in the corridor today.
The darkness was rolling and twisting, and the stone pillars turned into soft vines, dancing with bright color spots. He couldn't tell what this thing was. It didn't have a human shape, and it was hard to tell its head and tail. Monsters also have a fixed form, but this thing seems to be somewhere between liquid and solid. It turned in silence and moved deftly through the hall. Regardless, this thing is full of malice. He also wanted to shout for help.
"...Debra?"
The screams grew louder. The pale arm danced before his eyes, directing the monster. Valema threw away the dagger and tried to bend her bow to nock an arrow, but the arrows turned into gray snakes and swam away. It is impossible for him to strangle his enemy with a bowstring. In panic, his companion mercilessly thrust out a stone hand.
Then darkness fell over Valema.
…
The water droplets fell silently into the sand, and the wind above us sounded like a whistle. Orange firelight illuminated the cave, but the air was still cold. This is the cold air of the Frost Moon. Although it is too late than Eastman, it will snow in Cangzhi Forest soon. The snow forest would hinder the Green Elves' patrols, Dalton thought, and this was for the best.
"How far is it?" asked the poet Sartre. He asked every five minutes.
"Just ahead." They had already passed the fork in the tunnel and chose the path on the right according to the tower apprentice's instructions. Fortunately, he explained in advance that the night elves couldn't tell the difference between the two paths at all. The caves on the surface were different from those underground. As for the difference, he couldn't tell for the time being. Or maybe my skills have simply deteriorated.
"I heard voices," York said.
"It doesn't happen to be our echo, right?"
"Of course not." The cave is very narrow and there is not much echo. Dalton heard it too. "Someone was screaming for help. Well, it probably wasn't a human."
York made a face: "Are we going to save the green elf?" He was always in high spirits. Presumably it was this righteous act of helping the pursuers that made this Lucia Sita both proud and satisfied. "Really going?"
"Don't think about easing the relationship." The female doctor poured cold water on him, "We must have killed more green elves in Saint Valoran than we saved."
"We were acting in self-defense."
"They are too," Dalton pointed out. "We'd better wait here until the noise subsides. If they shout loud enough, more green elves will come. What are you going to do then? Say we're here to help. The helping hand is your friend?”
"Then let's wait." York obeyed, "The green elves don't have a scroll of oaths."
