Neverwinter Forest black leaf

[barges in everywhere]

The orphaned prince, stripped of his laurels and deeply despondent, shambled toward the heart of his father’s forest seemingly without aim or purpose. In truth, he’d been subconsciously drawn to October’s scent, but to say that he actively sought her was inaccurate. He was little more than a zombie; though he had eaten and drunk at Shrike and Allure’s coaxing, his nights were fractured, fragmented into vignettes of blood and bearscent and the imagined screams of his parents. His gait had lost its stuttering hesitancy but his surefooted paws retained an apathetic tendency to shuffle. Still, he picked up his pace at the sound of Kjalarr’s voice, long limbs moving with a hint of their former clean efficiency.

“You may depart for Donnelaith when you are ready,” came the Viking’s deep, accented timbre. “Just…be careful.”

The quiet decree twisted Cypress’ frayed heartstrings into knots, and he burst upon the scene with panic glazing his sulphureous eyes. “October,” the raven croaked, his voice rusty with disuse, “no.” He shook his head, moving hesitantly forward on legs that seemed too frail to hold him, but his voice was steady and devoid of feeling. Dry-eyed and abnormally calm, “Tell her, Kjalarr,” he demanded, turning to look obliquely up at his adopted brother. “Tell her she has to stay.” He turned back to October, and his sides fluttered with the faint quickening of his breath. “You have to stay,” he told her, almost robotically. Still, it was the most engaged Cypress had been since his parents’ demise.