The Heartwood i've loved everything about you that hurt

@Mal

Most days, he tries to avoid thinking too much about his past. The ghosts of Broken Boulder hang over him like the cloud of smoke in the sky, all choking grey and black, ominous like a wrathful poltergeist — and past that, the shadow of Sunfil Grove like the cloak of night itself. Any trip down memory lane is a most dangerous trap, a rotating door of scenes and smells and faces: his father's mutilated head, his brother's stale scent, Korei's tears and Lily's silence and Delight's warmth fading from his side. Lanawyn.
Perhaps it is fitting that his wandering should bring him here: a forest of nothing but ghosts and ash, to match his life of nothing but ghosts and ash. The thought brings a bitter taste to his mouth, but he swallows it, lowering his nose to the ground as he walks. It would be ironic, he thinks, if all the prey had fled here. But he smells nothing fresh, nothing alive, much as he'd expected. He lifts his head after a moment, halting to fully take in his surroundings. The forest seems fairly reasonably dead and deserted — again, like his life. It's all very cheering to think about.