"But what is it?" asked Palindor. "What I see confounds my senses."
A part of the rippling air detached itself and coalesced into a small form. It was a sylph much like Lily, except that her hair and eyes were as black as obsidian.
"She is a forest nymph of the Black Wood," said Lily. "And you may save your breath, Palindor of Angorain! Her language is the song of the deep wood. She does not speak as do elves, men, dwarves, and other mortal terrene creatures."
Palindor shook his head in wonder. "Why have I, an elf, never heard of or seen such a creature?"
"They do not choose to be seen," Lily replied. "Indeed, even I was blind to their presence. There are a great many of them throughout the Black Wood. And they will defend it."
"How?" asked Grol. "Why, if their measure is to be taken from this lass, she hasn't a stitch of clothing, let alone a periapt or weapon."
Lily lifted an eyebrow at that. "I possess only the Summoning Stone, Grol of Munden. They have the Black Wood, and within its bounds it is mighty beyond reckoning!"
The forest nymph turned to the Black Wood, her almost-too-perfect, fine features suffused with emotion. At the Wood's edge the air rippled in several places. She nodded, sombrely, and the rippling moved off into the Wood and vanished. She and Lily then exchanged a long look, and Lily's visage was troubled.