Slinking up to the double doors, Sid raised up on his toes to squint out and see the damage. Like Dreadlynn and Neeb had said, the place was absolutely packed. The line was to the door. Batronella was sashaying between tables and almost busy enough not to pause and flirt - almost.
The wind whispered through her leaves, bringing news from across the woods and, with it, his voice. Garrick was often slow to speak. His thoughts were like her leaves in the wind, swept up in one direction, rising and falling, never set in a particular course. Today, he was fletching an arrow made from one of her discarded branches. The feathers had come from birds whose homes were made in her boughs.
The Cozy Cauldron 