Neverwinter Forest saturn

So the original first half of this post was lost when I somehow managed to edit it and entirely delete my post? If it's crappy I was in a rush to re-write it. *weeps*

The morning was tepid, warm even though dawn had only begun to break when Sinaaq had left his den. As the day wound on this particular temperature had allowed a thin fog to settle over the Valley, and further to settle in the darkness of Neverwinter Forest as the svelte Arrluk wove easily through the trees. He had been here a few times before and while he could not claim he knew the territory well, he would not dispute that he knew it well enough that he did not think getting lost within it's confines was likely. It could happen, sure, but he doubted it. Perhaps if the fog was thicker, creating the illusion of disorientation. As Sinaaq stepped deeper into the forest, nearing it's heart now he first heard the screeching caw of a bird breaking through the relatively serene silence. Ears cupped forth to find the direction that the sound had originated in. Under normal circumstances he would not bother himself with the prying curiosity especially when it came from a “lesser” creature but this noise pulled and tugged at his intrigue.

There were a few situations lately that had manipulated Sinaaq into admitting things that he did not wish too. Though Adlartok and Cara were not the first. No matter how hard it was that Sinaaq attempted to deny it, and to tell himself otherwise Solia had changed him. Changed him because he had loved her ...and because a part of him still loved her. He was not the same wretched creature that had left his birth pack. Granted, he was still tortured and there was nothing that he felt would fix that but he could not claim to be the same boy that had stolen Adlartok into the night. 

The sound came again, this time less frantic and not nearly as shrill. Still, it called out. Sinaaq's steps slowed upon his approach, fierce, golden gaze finding it easily enough.

It was a raven, he saw. It was a wretched thing, with a long wound across it's chest — the source of the blood —, a wing that was likely broken if the extended way the creature held it was of any indication, and tufts of feathers having been torn out and laid scattered about it like oil spilled upon the bracken of the forest floor. It was a wretched thing that looked like it had been carved out of Sinaaq's own wretched soul. Immediately, a strange feeling of kinship washed over the darkling as he studied it's pitiful form. She let out a shrill cry causing his ears to slick back to his skull, hackles bristling at the possibility that her cries for aid might attract others or even more likely unwanted predators. He was an ugly thing Sinaaq couldn't help but think over the trickling pull of kinship with it, vain enough to mind it, but then so was he. Not physically, perhaps, but inside. It might have been easy to leave him there. It would have been easy to kill him and put him out of her misery. Kinder, perhaps; but Sinaaq wasn't kind.

The avian's beady black eyes met his of fierce gold and he hopped towards him with a useless flutter of his good wing, his head cocking to the side as if he were assessing him. “Elenden,” He half hissed and have crooned to it in the guttural language his priestess sister had taught him. Should he survive his injuries and heal, he could be trained to be of assistance to him, Sinaaq could not help but consider. Or at the very least a companion — even if his wing never healed right then he would not be able to leave him like all of the others before him. Born of the darkling's own selfishness it was in that moment that Sinaaq decided to aid it, ghosting forward a step. “We should see to that wound.” Not that he had any idea how to go about healing or setting anything.