“Be very still,” Cush whispered.
A murder of crows exploded from a tree behind them, cawing and flapping, swooping down at the pair.
“Stay down,” yelled Cush. He threw his body over Oakley. “They can’t hurt us,” the elf ground out at he put his hands over his head hopefully protecting the tender parts from the beaks and claws. A second later the crows didn’t so much as fly off, they just vanished.
“An illusion,” the elf said calmly as he stood up, his eyes searching their surroundings. For what, Oakley did not know. “Just like the noose. You mustn’t let her fool your mind.”
“Easy for you to say,” Oakley responded, rising to his feet. “What about this?” He pointed to the top of his ear, which was now dripping blood onto his shoulder. Apparently one of the bird’s beaks had found a target
