Sylvara crept over the lacerated stone that was stitched together for human use. She watched them carefully, bewildered by how they strode past her. Some were walking in strange fabrics of varying color, while others were being carried off by their enslaved horses in the lurid fog.
The young dryad abruptly stopped in her tracks, paralyzed by an assaulting and dreadful smell. It made her veins burn with anguished fury throughout her body. She turned towards the large structure with its towering trunks and stood in horror as it spat out the ashes of natural life.
Her wrath demanded retribution.
