Chapter 28 The Willows Whisper Part 2

### Chapter 28: The Willows Whisper (Part 2)

Trill wiped the blood from his blade, the remnants of the ambushers still splattered on his armor. His chest heaved with each breath, his gaze lingering on the lifeless bodies that now littered the clearing. The Snap Dragons and hedge boars, their jaws still dripping with blood, stood like sentinels, awaiting his command.

Bren stood a few paces behind him, her eyes scanning the scene with a mix of satisfaction and caution. She had expected a quick battle, but there was an unease in the air, a lingering tension that told her this fight wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

Trill turned his head toward her, his expression hardened. "We're not done yet. We need to get back to the caravan."

Bren nodded. "What now? Do you think there will be more ambushers?"

Trill didn't answer immediately. His mind was already focused on the path ahead, on the connection he had with the trees that surrounded them. There was something he could feel deep in the roots of the earth, a subtle disturbance in the flow of nature. The forest was restless, and that made his instincts scream with urgency.

"We're heading back, but we need to move quickly. Something's not right."

He turned away from her and extended his senses, reaching out to the ancient trees, calling upon their whispers. The low murmur of the woods brushed against his consciousness like the hum of distant voices. The trees were always watching, always listening.

And then, just as he was about to turn back to Bren, the voices in the trees grew louder, more insistent, tinged with a sense of alarm.

*The little Many.*

The phrase rang through his mind like a distant, foreboding echo. His brow furrowed. He had never heard the trees speak in such a way before. He spoke aloud, his voice soft but urgent. "What do you mean? Who's attacking the caravan?"

The response came as an eerie whisper, carried on the wind. *The little Many.*

Trill's eyes snapped open, his heart racing. "The little Many?" he repeated, his voice laced with confusion. He had no idea what that meant, but the trees were certain. There was danger ahead.

Bren's voice cut through his thoughts. "What's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost."

He turned to her, his jaw tight. "The trees say we're being sieged. They call them the 'little Many.'"

Bren's eyes narrowed. "The 'little Many'... Could it be... goblins? Or some sort of horde?"

Trill shook his head, but doubt lingered. "I don't know. But whatever it is, we need to get back to the caravan, now."

---

**The Siege**

They moved with a sense of urgency, the forest opening before them as the sound of nature intensified. The air grew heavy, and the light dimmed under the canopy. Something wasn't right.

As they neared the clearing where the caravan had been set up, the trees began to tremble, and the ground beneath their feet seemed to hum with a strange energy. The clearing was unnaturally still. The usual sounds of birds and wildlife had faded, replaced by the rustling of unseen creatures in the underbrush.

Then, in the distance, they saw it.

A thick wall of vines and branches stretched across the path leading to the caravan, an impenetrable barrier. The trees, which had once been allies, now seemed to be under siege themselves. Something—*someone*—was tampering with the natural order of things.

"Something's wrong," Bren murmured as they approached. Her hand instinctively moved toward the hilt of her sword.

Trill's grip tightened on his own blade, his mind racing as the trees whispered around him. *The little Many...* The name kept repeating in his head, but it made no sense.

The trees trembled again, their leaves rustling like a warning. Suddenly, the air shifted—something was approaching.

And then, they saw it.

---

**The Attack**

A group of creatures, no taller than children, emerged from the underbrush. Their bodies were small but wiry, covered in thick, tangled fur and leather armor made from the hides of beasts. Their eyes were wild, and their teeth gleamed in the dimming light as they howled in unison, charging at the caravan.

"Goblins," Bren muttered, her voice tinged with disgust. "They're nothing but pests."

Trill didn't take his eyes off them, his hand tightening around his sword hilt. "Not just goblins... These are something else. These are the 'little Many.'"

Bren's gaze flicked to him, curiosity flaring. "What does that mean?"

Trill didn't answer, his mind already working as the goblins closed in, their numbers growing with every passing second. The first wave of them came running at the caravan with reckless abandon, their crude weapons raised high, ready to strike.

"Stay close," Trill said, his voice low but commanding. He stepped forward, his sword flashing in the dying light as he cut down the first few goblins with practiced ease. Bren was at his side in an instant, her blade flashing as she cleaved through the enemy ranks.

But these weren't the usual goblins they had encountered. The creatures fought with an unnatural frenzy, as if driven by something greater than mere instinct. Their eyes gleamed with an eerie, otherworldly light, and their movements were far more coordinated than any goblin horde Trill had seen before.

The ground shook again, and Trill heard the trees whisper urgently. Something was coming, something far larger than the goblins. A larger presence was approaching, its power resonating through the forest.

"Get back to the caravan!" Trill shouted to Bren, his voice sharp with urgency. "We need to protect the people!"

Without a second thought, Bren nodded and dashed toward the center of the clearing, her blade cutting through goblins left and right. Trill's heart pounded as he fought his way through the small army of goblins, his thoughts racing.

But before they could reach the caravan, the ground trembled again. This time, it wasn't the small, frantic tremors of goblin footsteps—it was something far more massive. A shadow moved across the clearing, and Trill's eyes widened as he saw what was emerging from the trees.

A massive creature, covered in bark and thorns, its eyes glowing a sickly yellow, lumbered into view. It was a twisted, corrupted tree spirit—an abomination that had clearly been raised by the goblins. Its limbs were like thick branches, sharp and jagged, capable of crushing anything in its path. The air grew heavy with the stench of decay and corruption.

"What in the gods' names…" Bren gasped, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the massive creature.

"This is no ordinary attack," Trill muttered, his voice cold with realization. "The goblins have been corrupted by something far darker."

The massive creature, the corrupted tree spirit, roared, shaking the ground as it charged toward the caravan. Its limbs lashed out with terrifying speed, sending nearby goblins flying like ragdolls as it swung with deadly force.

"We need to take it down," Trill said, his voice sharp with command.

But before they could react, the trees around them seemed to come alive with a shrill warning. The forest was shifting again, growing more erratic. Something else was moving beneath their feet.

The goblins were not the only threat. And whatever had brought this terror upon the forest had far more power than they had realized.

---

**A Dangerous Choice**

Trill and Bren exchanged a quick glance, understanding passing between them. There was no time for hesitation.

The corrupted tree spirit was charging toward them, its massive limbs raising high, preparing to strike. But Trill was already moving, his sword flashing through the air as he called upon the power of the forest.

He struck the earth with his blade, sending a pulse of energy into the ground, causing the nearby trees to writhe in response. Vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around the creature's limbs, but the corrupted spirit let out a guttural roar, snapping them with its massive strength.

"We'll need more than this to bring it down," Trill growled, his expression grim.

Bren was already moving, her blade slicing through the air as she closed the distance between herself and the massive creature. But even as she moved, the forest seemed to grow restless, the trees whispering in frantic tones.

*The little Many...*

What did the trees mean? What was coming next? The answer was in the forest—but the forest was becoming darker, more twisted with each passing moment.

And Trill knew, deep in his bones, that this was only the beginning.