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"Trees give me the creeps." It wasn't the first time the vagaran youth had muttered those words under his breath - but, in a way, he saw what they all said about the trees in Sil: they looked even bigger, and hence badder, than normal ones.
One couldn't really blame Lyr for a lack of tree-hugging impulse: not only had he not the slightest bit of elven blood in him; not only had he grown up in the middle of the populous and very civilized - hence nearly treeless - Jaedaxia; but the last time he'd been stomping about the wilderness, in Carmelyn, he'd almost been eaten by a lunatic farmer and his dog. It wasn't exactly an experience to make one rejoice at being among green leafy things again.
His new traveling companion, however, seemed not the least deterred by the sight of the things. The journey from Imperia to Syl had allowed Lyr some more time to get to know Ken's ways, and he sensed the sarcasm behind the young elf's words without being entirely able to place it's origin. Not that he cared; he still thought of the elf as a simpleton, a wimpy, milk-soppy creature who definitely had more of the girl than the man in him, considering the way Rose had taken to him. Lyr glanced at his daughter, sleeping contentedly on Ken's chest with her mouth half open and her pretty curling lashes - her mother's sinfully long lashes - fluttering beautifically in sleep. A twinge of something pinched Lyr's nerves at the sight: but then he remembered the voyage, and the Jorel-blasted time he'd had of it in Imperia, and even the trees which Ken had brought him to couldn't keep away the sigh of relief. He'd put up with almost anything so long as Rose kept the higher octaves of her vocal cords to herself.
"Moonwillow, huh?" Lyr turned to look, rather dubiously, at the scenery. Trees - trees - and more trees! Their very vastness depressed him and made him feel small: Lyr didn't like feeling small. "They're all gigantic." It wasn't a complement. "And you say your ancestors did all of this, eh? Some ancestors..."
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