Griffith.

He walked into the darkening woods, the brand on his neck throbbing a dull, rhythmic ache. Behind him, the children’s sobs faded. Ahead, the trees grew twisted, their bark weeping sap like amber tears.

She didn’t stand. Instead, she clapped twice.

The small elf fluttered from behind his cloak, where he’d been hiding from the wind. “Yeah, boss?”