"Oh no, no no," he says, holding up his hands with a desperate shake of her head. Giving another look through the screen of darkness, he screws up his face, making an unfathomable expression. "You want me to turn her? Soren, she has already been bitten! It would just kill her!" he exclaims, wiping a loose strand of dark hair away from his scarred eye. But the sharpness in those red eyes tells me enough about refusal. Alas, it would seem he needs a bit of... swaying.
"She could become very useful to us, you know. We could deploy her as our lookout, or our spy. You know just as well as I do that allies are valuable assets to us," I remind him, playing with a coil of dark smoking magic between my fingers. With a visible concern, Fangorn watches it as little shapes take form and snap at the air around us: the manifestations of my stress.
I really need to drink.
