The north wind brushed by, and the fir tree's branches rustled, sounding like a playful lover whispering sweet nothings in your ear – even if you couldn't make out what was being said, it could still cause a tickle of anticipation in your heart.
In the distance, a large expanse of the crimson Rose of the Magic Palace pirouetted in the air, their golden pollen enveloping the pale yellow maggots on the ground, making you momentarily forget the maggots' plump and somewhat disgusting appearance.
"Who do you think will emerge as the victor from this battle, or rather, who will be the Curtain Caller of this play?" Bartlett asked the Half-Elven and Old Will.
"Clearly, the 'Bloodsucking Bees' or the Rose of Magic Palace as some call it, would be the one receiving the applause. No matter what they are called, at least they have already immobilized those maggots, turning them into live targets," the Half-Elven offered his answer.
