The Heartwood little bird

To think she came here from her cushioned life as a princess, frolicking alone in the muck like a commoner. He finds it humorous she’s got the gall—some part of him knows he ought to be thankful she isn’t like the rest of the royal lot, but the stench never changes.
In the end, she’d never understand what it’s really like.
He barks a laugh, rough and lacking true mirth.
Bunch of fucked up fools they are, if they think they can run off to some god forbidden place without the loom of Rothskel. He’s run this far, and yet he can never escape his past. That’s what he learned the moment he set eyes on Ghost. And now she’s here, haunting him in a way the windwalker couldn’t quite.
New beginning, he huffs, shaking the end of his muzzle. Life that kind to you, Princess?