"The blossom moon brought a warmer breeze," Inric continues. "In the forest, snowbells danced, heralding the summer ease, winter's wrath at last appeased. Patrols laughed under flowering trees. Sar-Tenethin advanced." Anvar reads on. "As each fort's patrol fyel transferred out from the fort nexus to their assigned location, the Sar-Tenethin fyels ambushed and killed them." Liss' friend listens to the tale, tense with expectation. Inric maintains the steady rhythm of the verse. "Two fyels went out, unprepared. Realisation came too late. Eighteen now remained on guard. Only one scout could be spared. It was Hyathirinel who dared; Liss joined her fyel-mate." He takes a breath. "They found the bodies, eighteen slain. Ambushed on the transfer site. Hyathirinel's choice was plain: Liss was to run for Anvirin, tell of the danger from within. She went back to fight."