Murik trudged deep into the forest, where roots twisted like slimy stairways. He wanted to find enough herbs and berries to earn a few extra coins; his wife, Elgreth, had a birthday coming soon.
In a dark ravine, moss covered lumpy rocks. Murik’s gray hair clung damp beneath his ragged hat. He was weary and about to sit and rest when one of the rocks shouted, “Help!”
Murik stumbled backward into a patch of nettles.
The rock was, in fact, not a rock at all but an ancient man cloaked in leaves. Moss grew in his
