Neverwinter Forest he wanted love, i taste of blood

The taste of blood thickens in his mouth, and the wraith wakes fitfully, cracked-ice eyes flickering open into darkness. His breaths come loud and ragged, and his stretch is more of a stuttering lurch of his limbs — all but one. He sits up with the faintest whimper, wincing as his maimed leg flops forward into the snow. His focus, however, is elsewhere. Neverwinter Forest is recognizable even in the black of night, by scent if nothing else, though the metallic tang in his mouth still overwhelms most of the other scents in the air. The pieces come together slowly, but it all clicks after a moment. He takes in a deeper breath, and realizes he isn’t alone. Firesto — Kratos? His voice cracks, and he closes his eyes again, almost afraid of the answer.