The Heartwood Why does thou weep upon my grave

The harbinger is quick to come. He wastes no time, which makes him even more suited to the title given to him.

Again, he calls her Saga. She knows he sees the label highly strung and shall never let it slip from the memory of his tongue. He knows it well.

Saga must travel. Now she mocks him — not of humor or scorn, but more to show the contentedness it brings. A sensation of insecurity besieges me. This world bears many dangers, and in it there are those I cannot defend myself from. The elders require my tongue to relay what the forsaken cannot hear. It was reasoning enough. What more need she explain?

I know what it is I seek, but I hear their pleas to not travel alone. She looks at him expectantly now, assuming, hoping that the dark beast will understand her predicament and know of her exigency.