The Mute
Warning: Contains talk of abuse
“I would like my mask back, Tora Zollun.”
The voice came from all around Tora, sputtered out in uneven gasps from every shadow lurking among the tall trees of the Rowanwoods. He froze on the spot, quivering and staring helplessly at his feet. Panic slowly strangled him from within as the shadows moved closer, and the smell of rot filled his lungs. This was it. The gig was up.
I was so close! And he had been. He’d almost made it to the road leading out of Caledon Forest towards Kessex Hills. It was the last step to getting out alive – getting out of the forest. He’d done everything he could to get this far: stealing the mask, faking his death, staying out of sight as much as possible… of course it wasn’t enough. He should have known.
“My mask, please.”
He snapped out of it with a start, only to find himself face to face with The Mute. Bright eyes stared back at him from a petite face with yellow skin like the petals of a dandelion. Thorns like a cactus ribbed the edges of her cheeks and brows, yet her hair was more a mix of broad leaves and cattails. She was a peculiar mix of cacti, broad-leaf, and water plant, as if the Pale Tree had been confused in her creation.
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