"Maria!" Bellamy's voice reached her and she groaned, pushing herself up to her knees.
"Maria!" She looked up as Bellamy crashed into the clearing, skidding to a stop at the edge of the Green Tree's roots. Four of the veteran warriors flanked him, their eyes just as wide as they took in the carnage.
Bellamy stumbled forward, his legs carrying him without any input from his brain. The thick stench of blood tickled his nose as his eyes roved around the place.
The bark of the tree, which had been healthy the last time he'd laid eyes on it, was now marred with black veins crawling across its base. At its foot, the body of what looked like a Tribe of Stone prisoner lay crumpled and lifeless, throat cut, his blood soaked into the gnarled roots.
And beside it all, Maria knelt on the ground, her body trembling.
The veterans gripped their weapons, eyes darting between the dying tree, the curling smoke of rot curling up its trunk, and Maria.
