“The roots, in the trench, you said they were severed.” “To try and stop the rot.” “And who dictated all of this?” “Duke Renfal.” It is not lost on me that the man who was in charge when Krokan began raging was the same man who led the carving of spears from tree cuttings. I stare at my hand as the tingling fades away, trying to choose my next words as delicately as possible. I know I’m treading on dangerous ground, but I must ask all the same.
