| Phyliassargeth |
"Tuunbaq?" the gatekeeper repeats in a low voice, suddenly wary. He glances at the woman on the sled, then up at the canopy above him, sniffing the air.
With his mysterious inquiry finished, he fixes his gaze upon those assembled.
"Yes, I smell it. The tuunbaq is near, lurking. He is waiting for the girl, to take her riding on the wind." He points a clawed hand at Okoteck. "You say the virloga are gone? This is troubling news."
"The Green King knows much of what happens in his forests, but the tundra, the sea, and the lands beyond them are mysteries to him."
He gazes about at the haggard faces of the party, huddled against the cold. "You seek sanctuary." He sniffs heavily, breathes out--sending a small cloud of pollen floating on the breeze--and after a pregnant pause, says, "Then you shall have it."
The Green Man hands each of you a flower plucked from his beard--in Kork's case slapping him awake as he does so--and waves you toward the trees. “Do not stray from the path,” he warns, voice a low guttural hiss. “You will forfeit safe passage if you do.”