A peculiar change in the atmosphere prompted Jenaveve to take a breath when they left Wetherill's territory, entering into the treeline of Ashur Wood. And although the air felt thicker, it was also sweeter, perfumed with a mixture of fruit and flowers that flurried in a dance of small white petals. The further they went in, the trees became bigger, taller, stretching upward for what seemed like miles, weaving a thick canopy above them with the occasional opening, allowing in streaming sunbursts. The forest floor was a colorful floral bouquet ranging from vibrant hues to pale pastels sprouting and vining everywhere.
“So, what are we looking for, Sully?” Chaz asked the younger faerie riding on the horse that flanked him. “How far do we need to go before we find the entrance to the Hiðfalda
