"Who are you?" paralyzed and unable to channel mana momentarily, the lady asked with a nervous expression.
"I'd like to ask you the same question," index touching her neck and staring down to Triste, "-see what you did?" he gritted, "-children should not be that bratty," the eyes cold, the sobs lowered.
"I-I'm sorry," a few sniffles with snot dripping, "-l-let my m-mommy go," he asked.
"Promise that none of you will make a sound or harsh movement, else," a snap towards the tent, *poof,* instant combustion – a hole that opened the way for the scent of fresh fish to invade.
"Excuse me, majesty," bowed Haru, "-could you please let go of the Dryad?" courteous and warm, her ears twitched happily.
