Blackfeather Woods deepest sympathies

Pelagius was once a little boy, growing beneath his mother’s stories and his father’s strength. The boy was far from that now, but the stories were still there.

Even if Mother hadn’t told him about this one, he would know it by its face.

Spirit.

A quick two-step forward.

Do the woods call to you too?

He did not know why, or how, or if he’d ever know. But he belonged here, for now.