Happy Life
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with the smallest amount of energy in the whole wide world
Blinking, Treebeard recoils in horror, unable to comprehend such a serious breach of subordination – or perhaps his mind kindly spared him from such awareness.
- I apologize, sir, I don't know what came over me. It seems this herring somehow got into my head for a while, - quickly glancing around the battlefield and not seeing any immediate danger, he helps the Chief get up (if the latter doesn't cut him in half in anger).
- Damn it... - making the most sour and angry face possible, he frowns, surveying the bloody carnage; his gaze falls on the sword wound on the only guard. - Bastards... Buddy, how are you doing? Can you walk? Here, take this, it will help, - he hands the healing potion to his colleague, still not realizing in the blood-soaked haze that this wound was not inflicted by the brown-skinned creatures.
His wandering gaze falls on the fox:
- And you're here? What brings you here?... - he squints suspiciously, just like in post #734.
My sword, my trusted ally, unphased by my aspect.
