Lumberling stood panting, one hand braced on the spear still embedded in the troll's corpse.
Skitz limped over, rubbing his shoulder. "We'll call that… barely a win."
Lumberling grunted. "You alive?"
"Mostly." Skitz wiped a trickle of blood from his lip, then managed a crooked smile.
"This one's tougher than the Alpha Dire Wolves," Lumberling said, stepping forward and placing his hand on the troll's chest. "Might be rich in essence."
He activated Essence Weave.
As the smoky tendrils of power flowed into Skitz, his wounds began to slowly close. The gashes on his arm tightened, bruises faded. Skitz exhaled like a man stepping into a hot spring.
"This… this is incredible. I can feel it. More than the Alphas. Just a little more, and I think—no, I know I'm close to evolving, my Lord."
"Then we—" Lumberling stopped mid-sentence.
The air had changed.
Heavy. Still.
A thick branch cracked somewhere behind them.
