Dillinard and the Calamity
The Forest of Avenvi was Dillinard’s least favorite place to forage in late autumn. Its canopy was sparse, and its bushes and shrubs were already naked. He felt vulnerable with so little coverage, and he suspected she did, too. A quilt of browning red and yellow leaves blanketed the forest floor, and the dampness of the morning mist made scavenging for mushrooms difficult. But he needed at least a bag’s worth to prove the trip was worth the effort. He had raved too much last winter about Avenvi’s variety of mushrooms and suspected such praise was the only reason Kundra had brought him to hunt for more, though she would never admitted to doing something for his sake. Dillinard couldn’t eat the food she brought him from the villages she raided, as it was either too burnt - or too human - for his tastes. Rather than hear him whine in hunger or see him whither away in starvation, Kundra would take him to secluded sections of forests she deemed hers and let him scavenge what he could. He liked to feel grateful, but that morning all he felt was apprehension.
