The vines began pulling Gilbert towards the undergrowth. Aldwyn’s attention homed in on a rusty rake lying in a dirt patch of the garden. He lifted it telekinetically, swinging it through the air and causing its five metal pricks to impale the green tendrils. They let Gilbert go, and the tree frog made a giant leap and landed between Aldwyn and Skylar.
“Can we at least try to make it to the Ebs before getting killed?” asked Skylar wryly.
The trio continued on. With the capital city far behind them, the roads became eerily calm. It seemed as if few humans were willing to risk all but the most necessary journeys during such uncertain times, preferring to lock their doors and keep their windows shuttered. Aldwyn couldn’t help but wonder how useful that tactic would be if Paksahara decided to come knocking.
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