Dragoncrest Cliffs Witness Marks

trespassing

He stumbles, a little fugitive having ascended their cliffs, lungs knotted by thirst, sunheat searing dots into his vision. The worst of it- the demanding itch of his mutilated limb- he would suppress with his teeth for a span of time before the angry barrage returned that much stronger.

It was faith and determination that had brought him this far. He had met a kind mainlander girl and surrendered his guard. Naivety told him there were no hostile nations.

Here, the mainlander mark coats the inside of his nostrils. No voice unfurls; he could speak only wind. He traipses forward, searching for anyone.