Oak ignored his fallen comrade, focusing instead on our impromptu prison. He moved his mirror slightly, ensuring mine was perfectly balanced before gently lifting my hand away. He did the same with Robert, then my wife, and finally his own. Only then did he turn to Rose, laid stricken on the carpet.
Wisps of smoke were rising from her whole body as Oak leaned over her. “I'm sorry...” she began, but Oak silenced her with a finger to her lips.
“Hush now,” he said, stroking her brow. “And rest. You have served the Forest well.”
