<blockquote>There is no more wind, but all the vines are swaying. That must be a trick of your eyes, eh? It cannot be that the branches are reaching down for you, tangling in your hair, pulling at your wrap. Did a thorn just graze your cheek?
You know better. Mahogany trees don’t have thorns.
Whatever business you had that you couldn’t tell anyone about—they will all remember you by it now. They will all want to know what happened the night you disappeared.</blockquote>
