Hey everybody, I hope everyone's having a good time with their friends and family on this late time of the year! I'm really sorry for the slowness of publishing chapters. I'd hoped things would get better but I have little free time. Especially in this year. So again, many apologies! :') Here is my Christmas gift to you. The last chapter for 2015. I wish you all a very merry Christmas, and a happy, healthy 2016! Be seeing you all there!

"I thank you for your hospitality, friends." Bohan raised the cup of hot tea to his lips to take a sip. Cold mountain air wasn't a friend to a creature like him, thus, he was allowed to warm near the fireplace.

"Don't make yourself too much at home," Margrit warned. "My friend may have invited you here, but you're still a stranger in my house." She cast a low glare at Asterix and made sure that he was aware of it. Asterix, in turn, simply let it happen. He wasn't in the position to argue with her — he did allow a stranger into her stead. But he was thankful she didn't immediately tell the man to get out. It gave him a chance to explain the situation. He quickly grabbed a cloth and used it to take the steaming coffee pot from its hook at the fireplace, and poured her a cup.

"Margrit, please. This is important to me," he pleaded. "I need to know what happened to Liliwen. She helped me a great deal in coming to you. If she's in trouble, then I have to help her." He then also poured himself a cup, setting it down at the table to let it cool, as well as the kettle. He then sat down.

"Did you have to bring him here, though?" Margrit groaned. Eventually, she sighed. "I'll give him a chance. But if he causes trouble, I can—and I will—order Bobbo to show him the door…" This time, she cast the same glare she gave Asterix toward the sylvari, drawing back a thumb and suggesting it toward her bear whom laid snoozing on his mat.

Bohan looked back at Margrit, trying to put on a modest smile, despite his unease. "I assure you, miss, there won't be need for that."

"We'll see about that," Margrit said dully. She bent forward and picked up her cup of coffee. She pursed her lips, blowing the steam away gently before taking a sip. "Now, tell us what happened," she added afterwards.

"Well," Bohan sighed, "As you both may already know, the Pact sent its fleet into the Maguuma's deepest parts to ambush the jungle dragon while it was still waking." The sylvari stared down at his tea. "But, the news is, that they failed. Mordremoth took down the entire fleet, and survivors are struggling to fight the dragon's armies… Liliwen has a friend who belongs to the Pact. A member of the Vigil. He was there during the assault. We were in Kryta when we were told of the news, and she wanted to go and rescue him. I…agreed to come with her. I was to get supplies and catch up with her as soon as I could, until I heard of what else happened there."

Asterix felt a chill of worry creeping onto him like a cold wind. After that previous run-in with one of Jormag's monsters, the mention of yet another dragon was all but welcome to him. The feeling was mutual with Margrit. But still, they both listened.

"Go on," Margrit urged when the sylvari silenced. In turn, Bohan nodded.

"There have been reports that members of the Pact have turned against the alliance during the attack." Bohan suddenly turned his face away in shame. "They…were all sylvari." He grimaced, the yellow-green foxfire of his leaves and skin fading away as he felt his blood draw away from his face. "I know she was going through Lion's Arch before heading to the jungle, so I was hoping to catch her there—"

"Wait," Margrit interrupted, "What are you talking about? What do you mean sylvari turned against the Pact?"

"I really don't know," Bohan answered. His voice trembled a little. "I only know that they were still with the Pact just before the assault. And when it began, they suddenly started attacking their comrades. I don't know why, but I can't imagine they did this all by choice. I really can't…"

"And whatever happened out there, you want to go after your sylvari friend to prevent the same thing happening to her, am I right?" Margrit questioned with a dark, ominous look on her face.

The sylvari raised his head, sharing a glance with both Margrit and Asterix. One face gazed at him, cold and condemningly, and he couldn't blame that glare. The grim news spread like wildfire, more and more people became wary of him and all his kin. The other face was sympathetic, somewhat afraid, yet seemed willing to help. Finally, Bohan sighed, and answered. "Yes… If I hurry, I might be able to catch her before she gets too deep into the jungle."

"I'll come along," Asterix shot up from his seat.

"Out of the question!" Margrit suddenly snapped at the Gaul. "You weren't going to get yourself in trouble anymore."

Surprised, the Gaul looked back at the norn pleadingly. "Didn't you just hear him? We can catch her before she even gets to the jungle—"

Margrit adamantly ignored Asterix. "I need you to leave, Bohan."

"Of course," Bohan answered sadly, and he set the teacup down on the coffee table. He stood up from the chair without strife.

"Wait," Asterix cut in, holding up a hand. "Don't leave yet." The sylvari stared back at him with a conflicted look in his eyes. Asterix turned to look at Margrit, who glared back at him. He returned the same gaze, for only a short moment.

"Bohan," he asked back to the sylvari. "Do you mind? Margrit and I need to talk alone."

"Of course not," Bohan replied. The man looked around "But where should I wait?"

But before he could answer, Margrit cut in. "Outside," she replied sternly. Asterix subtly shook his head. He wanted to object, but he knew not to push Margrit's limits. Finally, he also replied after her.

"Just grab a coat. It won't take long…"

The sylvari nodded obediently. And as he stepped out the front door with a warm fur wrapped around, Asterix looked back at an angered norn. Her silver eyes peered at him, and it looked like she was willing to scold and penalize him. Slowly he collected his courage, readying himself for a battle of words.

"Margrit, I know how you feel about this. And I know I promised not to get in danger." Slowly, he approached the woman. "But Liliwen is my friend. I won't forgive myself if I don't do anything to help her."

Margrit sighed, staring at the human. She read the concern in his eyes and posture. "You understand I only want what's best for you."

"I do." He slowly came to a halt, standing still before her.

"You don't belong to this world. You might be aware of the dangers now, but you haven't experienced them in full. Out there, you'll be a sheep between wolves."

Asterix looked at the norness questioningly, then he turned his head to the window. Twilight approached, painting the sky beyond the trees with a palette of orange and violet. He could see Bohan walking around in circles, with a warm coat wrapped around his silhouette. He felt bad, that the sylvari had to wait outdoors, but at least he was patient, and he knew how to best keep warm. Perhaps he visited the mountains before.

A sudden annoyed groan escaped from Margrit, catching his attention again.

"You also know very well I can't stop you from going through with it anyway. You're too stubborn, is what you are. I know that much by now." She abruptly laughed a little. Asterix couldn't help but smile along with her.

"It's a gift and a curse," he jokingly added.

Then, her smile melted, her eyebrows furrowed with worry, and she looked down at him. "So… Do you really want to go then?" she asked. "Do you want to save your friend?"

Asterix blinked. The woman's gaze, that could almost read minds, peered into his brown eyes. "Yes," he answered with honesty. "No question about it."

Then there was a moment of silence. She still looked at him, thinking carefully. "Bring Bobbo with you, then," she said. "He's a strong, loyal fighter. He'll listen to you."

Asterix smiled. To be entrusted with the norness' animal companion was not something to take lightly. Her obligation made sure he was aware that this wouldn't be an easy task, and that he was going to need someone strong to watch his back in the wilderness. Speaking of which…

"Will you keep Dogmatix with you?" he asked. "It won't be safe for him out there."

Then, out of the blue, Margrit drew her arms out, folding them around him and gently pulling him close. There was a flush of warmth that streaked his face. The realization only dawned on him moments later – she was hugging him. She never did that before. He blinked again, dumbfounded by this sudden reaction.

"Of course." She murmured. "Just come back in one piece, okay?"

"O—okay." He carefully released himself from her hold. "Will you be alright on your own?"

Margrit began to smile warmheartedly. "Don't worry about it. It's not the first time I've broken something, you know."

He frowned at the woman."Wait, what?"

Margrit laughed humbly. "What? Did you really think you'll live in these mountains without breaking some bones in your life? Horin broke his collarbone in a keg brawl last year."

Right. The famous keg brawl… a favored pastime among the norn. It was much alike the 'fish brawls' he knew from home, except there was more keg-throwing involved, and no expired fish. Asterix stared at her. He tried to put on a smile, but instead made an awkward half-smile, half-cringe. "You almost make it sound like a competition…" he said. "See who breaks the most bones in their lives, right?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Margrit answered cheekily. She raised her hand and patted him on the head playfully. Asterix answered with an annoyed groan, as he tried to set his helm back in place. They then glanced out the window again, seeing that Bohan still walked in circles outside, battling the cold.

"Well, let's let him in and tell him the good news, before he turns into a popsicle."

Asterix didn't think he would ever tell himself this, but thank the gods for asura gateways.

It was early in the morning when he and Bohan left, accompanied by Margrit's bear. There was little time to waste. Supplies were packed, words of advice exchanged, and goodbyes were made. The gates made travel almost effortless, were it not for the Grove, though among the nearest, still being at quite a distance away from their destination.

After the word got out, the sylvan city had turned awfully quiet, and was void of tourism. Asterix received several wary glances from the few sylvari who woke early, curious to know why a human would dare wander here, moments after they had been declared traitors.

"It must be horrible," he muttered. "To be labeled enemies like this. Just because a few of them turned against us… How is this even fair?"

"To be perfectly honest, it was more than just a few." Bohan replied quietly. "Too many to be considered a coincidence."

"Do you know if any of them didn't betray the Pact?"

"I have no idea…" Bohan answered, sighing hopelessly.

Asterix glowered, trying hard to brush the dark thoughts away. He glanced up. The boughs sprouting from a titanic white trunk loomed over them. The Pale Tree – he remembered. Her leaves were still as great as he recalled. His eyes traced the roots eagerly, but his mind grew more worried by the second.

"Gods… What's wrong with the tree?"

Bohan stopped and turned to look back at his companion, noting the short human was eyeing the Pale Tree's roots. White bark was covered in grey rashes, and the thinnest limbs curled back in diseased wither. The sight alone was enough to make Bohan emotional. But he did well at holding his feelings back.

"She was attacked, recently…" he muttered. "The assault left her exhausted."

Wide-eyed, Asterix jerked away in surprise, looking to Bohan's direction. "What? Who would do that?"

"One of Mordremoth's foul abominations." the autumn sylvari answered darkly. He turned around again, walking at a quicker pace. "Don't worry about her. Our mother is strong. She will pull through."

"Right..." The Gaul gave one last glance, eyes narrowing as he peered at the blemishes, then he looked at Bobbo beside him, who stood at least two heads taller than him on all fours. The big brown eyed the man questioningly with little ashen-black eyes, a big nose wiggling in an act of intent. Eventually, Asterix lightly scratched the animal near his ear. "At least you don't howl when you see trees like this," he spoke quietly.

He expected himself to make a reassuring comment, to somehow comfort and motivate the bear, but he found that he had nothing. It took moments to realize it wasn't Bobbo who felt his hope drop so quickly. The realization of what happened to the Grove's sacred tree – the mother of all sylvari – was a crippling thought.

Bohan stopped walking, noticing it was silent behind him. Turning to look, he found that he was walking off alone. "Is something wrong, Asterix?"

Shaken out of his thoughts, he stared into the direction he heard his name being called from.

Whoops— "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He caught up with the sylvari. He cleared his throat before asking "I just have one question…"

"Yes?"

"Is there any chance we have to be crossing Inquest territory?"

Bohan's white eyes didn't take a moment to glance down at the Gaul, pacing at a quick walking speed. "Yes. Why do you ask? Do they worry you?"

"I'd prefer to avoid them, is all."

"Wait," Bohan said, yet not stopping in his tracks. But this time, he did cast his eyes down to the Gaul. "You don't happen to be that Ascalonian warrior Liliwen told me about?"

"Hm?" Oh, right. He forgot about that. Asterix picked up speed to keep up with the sylvari. Margrit's bear followed closely behind. "Yeah… about that, I'm not really from Ascalon."

"But you're a descendant from an Ascalonian family, right?" Bohan commented.

"No. It's…It's a complicated story."

"I see," Bohan answered simply. It relieved Asterix that the man didn't ask any more questions. He'd still have to explain himself later when they find Liliwen, but at least that was delayed, for now.

The outer city borders surely came into sight. And beyond that, Caledon Forest. As they set off into the woods, Bohan was kind enough to explain the route they were taking. They would be walking along the path Asterix was familiar with from the last time he crossed the Maguuma, until they were past the swamp. Beyond that point, they would head further to the north-west; into the wildlands. There, at the gates of Fort Vandal, they'll catch the runaway sylvari in her tracks.

There were still smaller Inquest encampments that they may have to pass, but Bohan promised he would make sure to avoid them, if possible.

"Remember, we're going to come very close to Mordremoth's territory," Bohan finally added after he finished explaining the route to Asterix. "When we do, be extra careful. I heard that thorned vines burst out of the ground and snag people by their ankles. Best not stand in one place too long."

"Isn't that nice…" Asterix muttered sarcastically. "Anything else I should know about?"

"The dragon's minions aren't very fond of fire." Bohan eyed the Gaul's scabbard, with the sword neatly fitted within. "Keep your blade handy. It might scare off the lesser minions, and get you out of a pinch."

Fair enough. From what Asterix was told, Mordremoth was the Elder Dragon that could command the trees themselves. The Silverwastes was a desert beyond the fort that formed the border to the monster's territory. Dry plants make great bonfires.

"What about bigger minions?" he questioned.

"Let's hope we don't run into those."

Well, that was certainly encouraging.

"Indeed." Asterix muttered. "So, she told you about my sword too, huh?" he jokingly accused, only in an attempt to change subject.

Bohan cast the Gaul a grin. "She liked talking about you."

His helm-wings twitched like ears as he perked up. "Why? I'm not that fascinating."

The sylvari chuckled. "Well, she's still young. You know how the young ones are. They find everything fascinating."

Asterix grinned, shook his head and shrugged. Well, there was truth in that. Asterix had met his share of saplings; sylvari no older than a year. They would ask him the oddest questions. 'Does it hurt when you cut your hair?' must have been among the strangest. Sometimes the questions even were a little too personal for comfort, so he had to deny them the answers.

"What about you, then?" asked Asterix. "What's your age, If you don't mind me asking?"

"I've seen seven summers pass, so far." Bohan turned. "What's your age?"

A fully grown, adult creature, at only the age of a child. It was difficult for Asterix to wrap his mind around. Sylvari had no childhood whatsoever – even lacking the concept of it. He suddenly felt incredibly old. Like Geriatrix, complete with a balding scalp and walking-cane of oak. "Thirty-five," Asterix finally spoke under his breath. The number he uttered sounded far less intimidating than the number he currently imagined feeling.

The sylvan's white eyes widened in surprise. "Oh! Oh my," he laughed. "You're much older than our kind, then!"

"Thanks." He tried not to let his discontent be known. But he couldn't remain feeling insulted for long. It wasn't the sylvari's fault after all. The casual chatter went on for a while, mixed with spews of laughter, but also moments of gloominess, talking about past events and problems they were facing even today. Though tempted, Asterix refrained from talking about his own qualms too openly, afraid to give away his origins.

Soon, the last sylvan settlement to be seen in a while, Mabon's market, was also behind them. By that time, they both knew to hush down. Wild animals and other nasty things lurked in the jungle, and then, there was the swamp that they had to pass in order to reach the wildlands. Wychmire Swamp. Asterix remembered the place well, but not fondly so. It smelled, it was wet, it was exactly what one'd expect of a swamp. But this foul bog had one extra animosity that added to his dislike for it: the dreaded Nightmare Court.

This time, though, he was ready to join in the fight, would the situation call for it.

They both halted before the swamp, gazing restlessly into the deep quagmire. Its smell was a fine reminder of how terrible it really was. A single twisted path of cobblestone curled through the area, disappearing and reappearing under the water at several places, until the morning fog obscured it from being seen any further. "I'm not fond of this place," Bohan said quietly.

"Tell me about it," Asterix dully replied. With a whisper, he ordered Bobbo to stand ground when the animal wandered up to them.

The sylvari drew his hatchet, as well as a sharp knife, from their containers. Asterix followed suit by drawing his sword and revolver – he felt that he was not ready yet for the bow and arrow. Not yet.

"Follow me," was Bohan's next motion.

The Gaul nodded, and he instructed the bear behind him to follow as he did follow the sylvari. The sword's flames made the wet road and murky water reflect and glimmer like golden as they passed through. There was a distinguished, powerful stench of rot in the air. Something must have died here recently. It made it difficult to breathe.

Asterix wished in silence that they wouldn't run into more of these swamplands. But then, a rustling noise caught his attention. The Gaul halted, and turned his head to look back. Narrowing his eyes, he peered into the fog behind them. Bohan too turned around.

"Did you hear something?" was his first reaction.

"I thought I did."

"Let's keep moving."

And though he agreed, the warrior found himself gazing into the fog a little longer, scanning the swamp for movement. He knew something was out there. Behind the trees, maybe? The swamp plants? The noise came back; a short rustling, then, an abrupt yet silent splash.

Something moved along the water, this time he was sure of it. Ripples stroked the gold-glittering, liquid surface, and it approached them. And yet, no living thing to be seen. There – another ripple, several feet away from the first. And yet another to the left. Now Bobbo was seeing it too, curling his lips back and baring a snarl. The ripples quietly, and slowly, closed in.

"Bohan, I think we're being followed," whispered a nervous Asterix.

The sylvari's clutched his grip tighter around the haft of his hatchet. He was indeed aware now. The head of a fish poked out from the water. Its slick snout was filled with many sharp little teeth, and its skin was black as night. Tiny pale blue eyes glimmered reflectively in the flames of Asterix's sword, as the creature stared at the three wanderers intently, and they looked back at it.

This was no fish, though. It was what was known as a skelk. Amphibious, sly creatures, both hunters and scavengers, ranging from the size of a hunting hound to a full grown bull. Their slender tails swirled like a snake's body, and they had sharp claws on long thin lizard-like limbs. They were masters of camouflage, and among the top most annoying animals known on Tyria's surface, in Margrit's opinion. Alone, they did not pose a major threat. It was the groups one had to worry for. Asterix read about these creatures as well as several other species that lived in Tyria. Well, actually, Margrit had to read it to him. He was trying to learn to read the New Krytan dialect, but it wasn't easy. That was beside the point anyway.

The lone skelk's head still bopped above the water's surface, letting go a raspy squeak. Bohan huffed back at it in annoyance, picking a stone from the ground, drawing his arm far back, and throwing it toward the animal. Quick as lightning, the skelk submerged itself once more and fled as soon as the rock hit the water near it.

"Let's move on before we get seen by something worse," he added to his action.

But then, they were stopped in their tracks, as more of the skelk began to stalk forward from the water. First came their heads, then followed slender jet-black bodies. They watched five of the creatures surround them, no – six. The skelk hissed eerily as they came closer, appearing particularly interested in the object Asterix held in his right hand.

"Pale Mother— Your sword, they're attracted by the fire! Stow it, quickly!"

Without a second of doubt in his mind, Asterix slid the sword back in its scabbard. Indeed, as soon as the flames dimmed, the skelk appeared to lose interest in it. No more of the creatures would be attracted to the light now. However, they still faced the problem of the skelk that already caught the scent of their prey. And now he was also without his sword. With just the revolver left in his other hand, Asterix knocked the hammer back on it, preparing to make good use of it.

They were outnumbered, six against three. "Stay close together," Bohan ordered. He squeezed the axe in his hand a little tighter, getting ready to embed it into one of their heads, at least, that's what Asterix would have presumed. He himself watched three of the skelk looming before him as they hissed. Among them was one larger than the rest. A pack leader, perhaps? Bobbo bared his fangs back at the animals, rumbling a throaty growl.

The large skelk cocked its head to the side, assessing the group of strangers. It too began to growl, and its followers did the same. Seconds later, the inevitable ensued. They all lunged at them, claws and teeth at the ready. Bobbo stood high on his feet, ramming a mighty paw into several skelk at once. Bohan did his own share of fighting as well, keeping back two skelk himself. Which left Asterix with the patriarch. As the monster bounded towards him, he pressed the trigger of his revolver, aimed at the patriarch, and the gun bellowed a pang followed with a belch of smoke. The bullet struck the skelk in the gut, making it wince mid-air and topple on top of the Gaul.

Asterix yelped out of frustration, trying desperately to shove the animal off. The beast was heavier than it looked, and still alive too. Now especially aggravated, the animal flung its jaws wide with full intent to decapitate him.

The gun! Where is my gun?!

He clasped his hands against the jaws of the skelk, pouring all the strength he had into keeping it from advancing. He wouldn't be able to hold for long. The warrior felt the teeth sink into his fingers. A clawed hand pressed down on his chest, making it more difficult to put up a struggle, but oddly enough, in all this chaos, he found himself wondering why it didn't just gut him on the spot.

"Get off him!" Bohan shouted, digging his knife into the animal's hide. The skelk leader shrieked painfully, staggering away from Asterix. He immediately searched for his revolver, finding it laying on the road quite closely beside him. He grabbed it, readied it, aimed and shot.

A fatal blow. The skelk collapsed backwards, weeping and flailing on the ground until it did no more. Thick blood that crept from the open wounds slowed as the animal's pulse weakened into nothingness, and ending its struggle with a weak twitch of its limbs. At that moment, a chance revealed itself. Bohan's pale eyes peered down at the fresh corpse, beholding an opportunity to turn the tide in this battle. Focusing on the skelk carcass, he quickly sheathed his knife, and then drew his now free hand toward the corpse, both of them becoming enveloped in a dark magic.

"Rise, and serve me."

The Gaul's eyes turned wide in surprise and horror. As if pulled from the grave, the skelk rose shakily back to its feet as Bohan's lifeforce flowed through its body, and soon regained its full strength. A sickly pale, olive-green hue replaced its jet black color, eyes dull and milky. Its jaw hung loose from the gunshot that killed it, but that didn't faze it from obeying its new master without question. Joining Bobbo, it immediately flung itself at its former pack members, claws tearing and teeth shredding in order to cause as much damage – as much distraction – as possible. Horrid shrieking added further havoc to the violent onslaught. Bohan grasped a paled human by the arm, proposing to make a run for it while the sylvari's reanimated minion could still fight.

Asterix nodded, calling Bobbo back to him. And they all ran, the howling and screeching echoing behind them the whole way. They ran until the Wychmire Swamp was far behind them, and waited there until the noise stopped.