Welcome to Troubadour Tuesday!! Last week we witnessed a brutal battle between Schneebedeckt and Sir Graylen’s little band. 
#ndrenfest 
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Watsley watched from where he was hiding in a tree as the dragon flew away clutching the injured yeti. He trembled, if Schneebedeckt hadn’t been worried about the Yeti, his friends would be dead, not just injured. He looked down in time to see Casington crumple.

He scurried down the tree and hurried over to the centaur as fast as his furry goat feet could take him. Watsley put his hands on Casington’s cheeks and shifted him carefully. Something felt off, there was a sickly feeling when he touched the centaur’s skin.

Suddenly a sense of calm washed over him, and he looked behind himself.

Sir Graylen turned to follow Watsley’s gaze, and drew his sword. Five people dressed in green robes emerged from the trees, their faces shadowed by large hoods.

“Peace, sir knight. We will not hurt you.” A soft feminine voice emanated from the first figure.

“We are Druid. We do not harm.” A smooth male voice came from the woman’s left.

Graylen frowned, “What is a Druid?” He asked. He had never heard that term before.

“Druids are spiritual guides. I have one in my court, the High Druid, Austinus of the Moor.” Arashiel said.

The druids in front of them shifted, but the female held up her hand, stilling them.

“Austinus of the Moor is not Druid. His is an empty title. A left over from when Druid still joined the court.” The female explained.

“We are the children between realms. We belong to both the summer and the winter realms. We are the halflings. Our blood is that of mortal men and nature spirits. Austinus of the Moor is firmly of the Winter Realm. He is of sea and sand, like water that moves over land.” The male spoke again.

A lilting childlike voice spoke from the man’s left, “By nature we cannot harm. No oath we spoke, yet it cannot be broke. Druid is one with a single choice, then none that follow. To heal or to die. This is our choice.”

A raspy male voice spoke from the first woman’s right, mixing with an elderly sounding female’s voice from his right, “We have one duty to this world, to heal. We are those who have chosen.” They said.

As Graylen watched the first woman reached up and pushed her hood back. Pine green hair was short and shaggy about her face. She had brown skin and her mossy colored eyes stared at him, “I am Willow.”

The man to her left followed suit revealing spiky crimson hair and orange skin. Golden eyes glinted, “I am Blaze.”

The young sounding girl pushed her hood back. She was almost terrifying to Graylen. He could see through her. Her skin was a translucent pearly white, and her hair was a light warm blue. Only her irises were opaque, a lovely violet color, “ I am Whisp.”

The last two pushed their hoods back simultaneously. They both had blue skin, but the woman’s was a warm cerulean, and the man’s was a grayish blue color. His hair was a dark blue and hers was white. Her eyes were dark grey and his were a bright sky blue color. “We are Tempest.” They said together. The synchronicity was making Graylen uncomfortable.

Willow moved forward, “ We come to heal the centaur. The great dragon’s ice is poison.”

Graylen looked down at Watsley. He had come to trust the little satyr’s judgement. His clairvoyance had kept them safe more than once.

Watsley was startled to see the strong knight look at him. “Casey feels sick. Can you help him?” He asked.

“We can.” The five intoned.

Watsley smiled, “Please save my friend.” He said, missing Casington’s eyes widening in surprise as he was called friend. It had been so long since he’d been called friend. He smiled as darkness overtook him.