The leaves whirled restlessly in the autumn winds, tornadoes of seasonal decay that evinced an image of ghastly black birds screeching their way across cobbles in a morbid procession. The stoic trunks climbed to astonishing heights in all directions save for the dingy brown scar of a road that wound its way through the brush and trees. Their barren branched fingers knitted together with neighbors ceaselessly, as if the crackling motions pondered a grisly fate.
Behind a thick wall of brush, upon a fallen dead hollow sat two figures. Armed and clad in hidden armor under garish costume, they waited in silence, arms and legs crossed in contemplation.
Maester glared intently at his gold pocket watch before stuffing it back into his coat. "Any time now," he said to his companion.
"What you ai
