The Border of Millbrook
The forest was dense here—ancient oaks with trunks wide as houses, their branches forming a canopy so thick that only scattered shafts of afternoon sunlight penetrated to the mossy ground below.
The air smelled of damp earth and rotting leaves, heavy and humid.
Two figures emerged from the treeline.
The first was a woman in her early forties, though elven aging made it hard to tell. She had the kind of beauty that matured like wine—soft curves that had filled out with motherhood, face still smooth but with laugh lines around her eyes and mouth.
Her hair was long and silver-blonde, braided loosely over one shoulder, strands escaping to frame her face.
