The Rogue Druid

     The Rogue Druid appeared at the peak of the hill again. With great speed and agility that defied his lean, almost delicate body, he came down the slope.  Not in a way that a normal man could descend such a steep incline, but more like a cat or some other animal designed to cling onto steep cliffs and hillsides.   When he was on the road he stood upright in front of Bubinda.   Although his black hood was up to conceal his face, the druid nonetheless knew who it was.  
      “Nice footwork,” said Bubinda, flippantly, then more seriously:   “Well, Galfall, we meet again.  I don’t think either of us would have foreseen that it would be in circumstances such as these.”
     “Is the Lady so desperate that she takes for her final druid the most depraved, feeble man of his age,”   Galfall replied, in that strained low voice.   “So abhorrent that everyone he has ever met has a reason to want to throttle him with their bare hands.   Especially the members of his own family.”
     “A man can change,” the druid replied.
     “Not you. You can never change.  You are too corrupt … too enveloped in your own self-pity … your longing to have what others have.    You have lived your life so immorally and did far too many evil deeds to ever expect to turn over a new leaf and begin again.”