Their scent, a mix of reptilian and Eldrennai (amphibian, too, maybe?) spread through the forest in a miasma of odor undiminished even by the billowing smoke from the flames of burning trees that had been following them for a whole day. At night, the northeastern horizon limned orange. The odor rode the smoky taint of the spreading forest fires begun at Tranduvallu. Is it heavier than the smoke, Kholburran wondered, pushed along by it? Overhead, the drying leaves of autumn made for a poor bulwark. Lush green forest awaited nearer the other Root Trees, especially near Hashan and Warrune, but getting there was taking too long. “Nature spirits are hard to control during a disaster,” Malli had explained to him. As a boy-type person, not very good with spirits, he had to take her word. And so, they ran . . . and ran. . . . Ahead of him, Arri and Lara moved at a relentless pace. If the loss of Arri’s right arm was throwing her off at all, she covered it well, compensating with experience gained from all those formal combat lessons (with sparring and drills, and lots of different weapons, not anything like the private lessons Malli had given him) in which boy-type persons (those with the potential to Take Root, in particular) were unwelcome.
