Gram cackled, leaning against his spear as laughs shook his small frame. It took several seconds for him to calm down, and when he did, the Dryads' expressions were incomparably ugly.
"Oaths, Grommett," Gram said, still chuckling. "From Mother's Branch, it's something to take seriously, but from these pups, it's an empty threat.
"Perhaps if I gave them time to grow, Grommett, but since they've decided to be so foolish, that's simply out of the question."
The goblin's mirth vanished so fast one would doubt it was ever even there, replaced with a cold look as he raised his spear.
"Oath-takers must be killed without mercy, Grommett," he said frostily. "And these green skins are not my prisoners. I will feel no remorse killing them."
"You can try," the Dryad said confidently, her eyes turning up to the falling leaves. "But so long as the Mother Tree sheds its blessings on us, we shall not falter."
