"When beasts like the Maws live and feed long enough, they usually grow a horn and become significantly stronger," Sophia explained to Izikel, her eyes scanning the path ahead.
"We call them Divine Beasts or Horned Beasts," she continued, tightening the straps of her armor. "The number of horns they grow indicates their strength."
"So, you two need to do as I say at all times, this is going to be even more dangerous," she said, glancing over at Lyzah and Izikel with firm resolve.
Then she turned to Felvin, who was sitting slumped against a tree. "Felvin, can you stand?"
He looked worse than before—paler, more ghost than man, like the life was steadily leaking out of him.
"I'm sure I can manage," he muttered, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
The other druids nearby had managed to recover some of their strength and were preparing to move out, but Felvin clearly hadn't regained anything. If anything, his condition had deteriorated.
