The Heartwood heilig

Every mark that lay upon his brown russet hide, had been earned or given. There was no happy ending for him. He would die as he had lived, bloody, lusty and scarred. There were very little happy things in his life.

Dreven was proud of the things he could do. They had not been for any mean of good. But he was skilled at it. He was what they had made him, and well there was no changing it now.


He gave a dry chuckle. Because we've been forsaken. Most of us since the day we were born. Monsters. Beasts. Unworthy. Anything, that can fit under such a moniker as thus. We are.

He studied her again. Eyes going half-lidded as he took her in. Not much to say other than that. They were what they were called. All of them adrift. Forsaken. Broken.