I catch the cloak with my good hand, flicking it open. It’s richly made. An intricate green symbol stitched onto the back. “Where did you get this?”

“Another druid very kindly let me borrow it.” He examines me critically. “It would be more convincing if you had a staff.”

I hesitate, then focus. Take the last of the metal from my chest, a few pieces from my arm, and then form the triangles into a twisted, interconnected pole.

The Strength of the Few Chapter 51