Bramblepoint A thorn for your troubles

sorry for the wait!

Mountains shrouded by fog! How ominous, he mused, and how different from the sunny plains he’d only ever known until stumbling North with his brother! The mountains here had been hard enough to navigate without the hindrance of fog blocking each footfall and drop off from view. He would have died before his first birthday… but then again, they’d had the fires.

Certainly, Vale Enid, he chuckled at the formality, but dipped his head in a genuine gesture of greeting and good will. It’d been a long time since he’d had such a civilized conversation, and with a fellow wanderer, to boot! I’m Evander Medeiros, misguided sightseer. She was looking for a home and adventure (or so he classified her want of learning), and he continued, I’m not sure what I’m here for. I followed my brother up from my home in the south — hot and arid with no mountains like the ones around here in sight, he gestured vaguely in the direction he’d come, but we’ve gone our own ways. Guess I’m looking for something, he shrugged, and chuckled again, or maybe nothing. But I’m finding it does get a little tiresome travelling alone.