"Allies have failed..." The whisper faint to the point of nearly imperceptible, summoning a breeze, rustling grass blades as if a thousand mouths were repeating the echoes.
Failed...
Failed...
The sun hides behind the clouds, and dewdrops lurking among the leaves seize the chance to roll down into the soil before they evaporate completely.
The earth responds to the droplets, beneath the land, an elusive shadow glides rapidly. All plants are responding to its call.
"But we will not..."
Not...
Not...
A fleeing figure filled with terror enters the vision, and the lurking hunter in the grass lunges forth.
"Enemies of the Weavers of Illusion, please die."
Die...
Die...
