Invasion of the Toothed Devils
"It's not fair." Gnarr grumbled to his favorite grandfather tree. "I was on watch duty just last week. Just because I am small doesn't mean I don't have talents." His voice grew in volume as the blue flames blazed brighter in his eye sockets. Gnarr paced back and forth in front of the winding stairs leading out of the Ent Forest. The elderly tree moaned in response, but Gnarr wasn't listening. "I'll show them. I can be a warrior just like my dad. I'll kill a Toothed Devil and return a hero! Then they will have to respect me." Gnarr took one solid step down the rough stone staircase, then faltered, his eyes losing their brilliance. He thought of his dad, the greatest warrior the Treeling race had ever seen. He had been tall, strong, and fluid in battle against the Pecking Demons. Then one day he had walked down the winding stairs to battle their new enemy the Toothed Devil and never returned. If his father couldn't win against them, how was he ever going to kill one? Gnarr's eyes dimmed and he sat down, still on the first step, sighing. He stared at the carved head which marked the entrance to the and stood as a reminder of the Growth Age of the Treelings before they had fallen and become mere shadows of their former selves. Absorbed in his thoughts he failed to hear the whispered warnings from the Elder Trees. Something was climbing the winding stairs.
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