"Stay close to me," warned Constantine. "We're not passing through the heart of the Yrol, but an enchanted wood is still enchanted."
"Doesn't seem that bad," Vica muttered. "We've been walking for hours and I can barely smell it."
Constantine paused mid-stride while stepping over a particularly large gnarled root. "Smell?" he repeated. His eyes flitted over her from head to toe.
"Like the smell after a hard rain. We're too far from the source of the enchantment." Vica removed the hand she had placed against a tree trunk while stepping around it and held her fingertips to her nose. She sniffed dubiously. "Or maybe it's because you're here, blocking it. But like I said, I can barely smell it."
Constantine resumed walking. "Don't sound so bitter. I'm only doing my job."
"So how do you do
