It was bad enough that someone had put a lone table in the middle of his woods as a spot for people to leave offerings even though he didn't require them. But now that was gone.
In its place, someone had erected what could only be described as a small shrine.
On top of a newly constructed platform, a wooden frame with an upside down v-shaped roof formed a three-sided enclosure for a different, bigger table that rested within. A red silk rope stretched across the front of the enclosure, decorated with a series of colorful flags and even a few wind chimes.
Rowan sighed.
He remembered the days when no one could find his bridge at all, let alone have any desire to force a shrine on him like it was some kind of requirement to prove that they didn't hate him anymore.
