Noctisardor Bypass trellis

cormorant felt the ghosts which haunted the bypass long before he ever crossed the faded remnants of its border. the air was heavy with history, a story he would never know. the drama and magic of a mystery always drew him in.

the darkling endore followed the winding path of a stream, pretty little head filled with fancy. he imagined who might have lived here, what might have driven them away. he didn't imagine that he would stumble across a living piece of the history he so desired to learn. when he first noticed the fresh scent among the stale, he thought he'd imagined it. but of course, he followed it anyway. the urge was too strong to resist, a compulsion; there was the chance it could be real, so why not take it?

and then he found her. pale, starving, alone. like a miracle. except for the fact that he wasn't a healer, or even a particularly good hunter. to help her would be a struggle, and if he didn't help her, how could he expect to hear her story? there was always a catch. but cormorant didn't think about all that; not for more than a minute, anyway. all his concerns passed him by entirely, and he found himself calling out to her.

hey, you need help? smooth.