Sometimes, things in the Nightmare World could neither be understood nor guessed at. All one could do was accept them.
Ruger recalled those words Layden had once spoken at camp, but now he could not help drawing connections and making wild guesses. This was the birthplace of a Nightmare Lord, after all. When Mewtris had described its power in extravagant terms, he and Layden had felt more surprise than fear. They believed that, as far as the Supreme Council was concerned, things like Nightmare Lords were allowed to exist for deeper reasons, not because they could not be fought.
But they were not the Supreme Council. They were merely a Kobold who barely shed anymore and a cook.
Ruger even entertained some outlandish ideas. What if the mountain beneath their feet was the supposedly gestating Nightmare Lord, and these black trees were the thick hairs on its back?
After thinking it over, though, he felt that was unlikely. In the Cavern World, perhaps that would have been the case, but this was the Nightmare World. Besides, Wizard Mewtris had told them before leaving that they could neither see it nor discover it. That probably meant it was not something as simple as the mountain beneath their feet.
Ruger noticed Layden's odd look. Clearly, the fellow had thought of the same thing.
"I don't think we're standing on that lord..." Ruger said quietly.
Layden nodded.
"Much less using its back hair to roast meat."
Ruger's next remark was such a leap that Layden stopped mid-nod.
A Nightmare Lord?
Impossible to see?
Born of extreme mutations and countless coincidences, guided by the power of fate and Spirituality?
Ruger shook his head and looked around, then strode toward the dead black tree he had struck with Spirit Fur Nourishment and the Shedding Spell.