[i]Falling...

Falling...[/i]

WAKE UP.

[i]Am I dead?[/i]

With a strained groan, Bor forced his stubborn eyelids to reveal his surroundings to him.

[i]Water.[/i]

Wait. That meant his boat was capsized. How else could he be there? A quick inspection of the murk around him yielded unfortunate news: his canoe was nearby, wrong side up. With much reluctance, Bor swam up to the boat and hauled it to what seemed like shore. 

It was late afternoon. The sun thinned its orange rays as Bor pulled the canoe onto shore. The bloody thing could somehow be useful - as firewood. Bor sat down behind a tree to get over the shock and finally figure out how his boat was capsized.

Little did he know he had sat down under a wild Mystra tree.

Viney hands enclosed themselves around Bor’s throat. 
 
[i]Don’t panic.[/i]

Bor let loose a savage war cry, unsheathing a handaxe and bravely hewing at the viney arms that held him prisoner. The tree unhanded his throat and let down an unearthly, almost horrific cry of pain. Its ‘hand’ was missing. The tree stopped wailing and let its hideous, alien features twist into a sadistic grin. Slowly but surely, the tree inched its way towards Bor. 

[i]There are spirits of the trees, but I never thought it this way...[/i]

Thinking critically, Bor grabbed a branch and a nearby piece of flint. He struck the two together, lighting an impressive fire. The tree flinched, but did not stop its ‘charge’. Bor hurled the burning branch at the living tree.

The last thing Bor saw before blacking out was a brilliant blue flame, the twisted features of horror on the the living tree’s face and a certain vineman running to his side.