"That's not what I meant." He replied quietly, but said nothing more. The shifting scenery around them began to lose it's green mountain foliage in favour of low hanging trees and veldt grasses. The colour palette melted into browns and beiges, and Bolion looked right at home in the colours of his skin.
Before long, a small set of hits, and one barn, or the remnants thereof. Blackened and charred, though many years ago, all the huts but one had greenery lounging on their skeletons. The one that didn't was the central hut, or so it seemed, and was much more freshly burnt than the others.
"Well here we are," Bolion remarked, "Essyrn."
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