Grassland - Blog Posts

Small skipper over the Devils spittleful nature reserve

"What's that shiny and long blade of grass you use called?"

He looked down as he hesitated.

When he looked up, he answered as if he was trying to melt the frost with his touch, "It can be called a 'blade' but for me, it's a broadsword."

"You can hurt people with that, right?" I asked him. It didn't look that dangerous to me if it could.

He lurched back like I hurt him.

"If it came to it, yes," he answered, all the same.

I didn't like that I was going to hurt something but I picked a blade of grass.

"Do you want to know what I can do with this?" I twirled the blade between my fingers.

He just looked at me odd.

I held the blade the way the nymphs taught me and blew some air. The shrill sound caught him off guard. Laughter overcame me like the abrupt rain the area we're in is known for.

"Will you teach me how to do that?" he asked when I calmed down enough to talk.

It was at that moment that I realized that I would do what I could for him like I would for any of my plants back at home.

"It would be my genuine pleasure," I replied with a smile.

"Oh, sure ya can try it, shortcut between here and Sa'la. But bandits may be better than the Fog, after all once it get ya there ain't no coming back, at last not Twisted."