More Whispers in the Woods
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Myrrha sat nestled in the crook of old hickory tree. The breeze swayed the branches softly around her. The leaves rustled, and the tree creaked with age.
Hickory trees weren’t much fun to talk to, particularly the old ones. Poplars were chatty, and maples often had a sense of humor. But this tree was old and quiet, and right now, Myrrha needed quiet.
The helm on her lap held great power. The helm didn’t fit her. It was much too big. But Myrrha was no fool. She knew that such an item would fetch great treasure if she were shrewd. If Myrrha was anything, she was shrewd.
The magic was strong, and the horns came from a minotaur, a great and noble beast. Myrrha felt the power in the horns. A power others, often great wizards couldn’t see. It was the power of The Name.
Myrrha closed her eyes and felt The Name of the great beast within the horns, and pulled it from them. It was an old name, full of majesty, power, and strength. There were names hidden everywhere. It was a dark secret she had, the ability to steal names.
Because once she learned The Name, truly learned it…
…she could keep it, and make it her own.
She let the The Name of the beast dwell within her for awhile. It took awhile, to truly learn it.
The sun went behind a cloud as Myrrha turned the helm over in her hands. The magic was still there, but The Name had been taken. She could sell it now.
The shadows of the clouds walked across the Rawlins. Myrrha shifted, helm, armor and all into the ubiquitous red wormling, the magic of her armor shifting to the skin of the beast, making it twinkle.
Then she spread her wings, and on the next breeze launched into the air, and sailed over her countless children.
