Except for her thumb and forefinger idly turning the smooth, round bone on her necklace, Elflorinel stood motionless as she studied the sprawling city. The surrounding rugged slopes seemed to tenderly cradle the buildings that filled nearly the length and breadth of the gently rolling valley. Steeply pitched slate roofs pricked the land within the ribbon of wall, with the higher peaks of the palace off to the northern end, but not so much as a wisp of smoke rose from the hundreds of stone chimneys into the clear air. She saw no movement. The arrow-straight South road leading to the main gate, the smaller, meandering roads that branched off to end at the lesser gates, and those which bypassed the outer walls altogether to lead north, were deserted. The sloping mountain meadow before her lay buried beneath a white winter blanket. A light breeze liberated the burden of snow from a sagging branch of to curl away. The same breeze ruffled the white wolf fur of the thick mantle snugged against her cheek, but she hardly noticed.
Her wings beat with the force of thunder. The crystal circle shattered. Flung by her feathers, arrays of glinting knives splintered the light of the stars, then rained down upon the earth. The shards grazed his arms. His steely skin repelled them; but concern for the thin flesh of mortals far below flashed in his mind.
As her wingstrokes carried them high into the icy heavens, his hands and feet chilled. The fire within him cooled. Then he sensed a warm rush. Soft quills brushed his shoulders, enfolding him. He dropped into a drifting nothingness. The assistance wasn’t needed of a mere mortal human and the man was dismissed off.
The man shouted words that drifted along in the wind and she brought him up swiftly to let him speak.
It would take a long time to name them. They are the spirits of the ocean and the rivers and the mountains, the forests and the fields. Your kingdom is no longer green. Armies trample the meadows into muck. They burn the crops and trees. Streams choke with the bodies of the slain. The land runs red with blood. The people pray for their lost prince to return.”
Cold wind howled. The man’s hair turned to withered leaves and blew away; his skin flaked off his bones like rotten bark; his skeleton crumbled into dust.
This is how she does her business if she doesn’t like what she wants to hear then you’re expired.
Branch Of Corruption 