Blackfeather Woods In the middle with the beggars and rejects

He nodded, thinking about what he'd said. The words seemed to just flow from him like it took no thought. 

Her question brought his thoughts to the present with a soft tilt of an ear. Death, a guiding force? He did want to grow up to be a mercenary but...to kill in the name of Sithis?
"Maybe." He'd have to think about it.
"But I am an Asenda-Blackfeather." He didn't need to be Sithis, to call himself in deaths name. He would not be a mercenary so vain as to do so. Unless one day he goes a bit crazy or wants to hide his true identity. But who knows, that's the future he doesn't know yet.