Dozens of broken branches lay between Khorijin and Erling's unmoving body. The path that had once led from where she stood to where he lay had vanished entirely beneath the glittering, barbed mass of icy spikes.
Here and there, trees still cracked, and the faint sound of falling fragments of ice filled the air. Some branches looked cracked and damaged, and a few might still break, dropping yet another bundle of explosive Ice Fruit on the ground and triggering a whole new wave of devastation.
Nothing about this place was safe.
If Khorijin cared about her life at all, to say nothing of claiming victory, she should turn and run. Escaping this deadly forest with her life was an honor she could sing about for years. The Frozen Forest of the Mother of Trees… No one could call her a coward for fleeing from it.
"Erling!" Khorijin called, hoping to see some sign of life from the fallen lord. "Lord Erling!"
Nothing.
No movement.
No sounds.
Not even a groan of pain.
