Hoshor Plains unreal unearth

Her eyes cut into him. He had to look away.

I, I know— Fjall stumbled over his words, staggering up to follow her. He swept quickly to her side, walking meekly at her shoulder. I did not mean to apologize for your life. I just… I suppose I thought it proper to acknowledge this as terrible. (Such empathic mannerliness came naturally to him, though he wouldn’t have been able to identify the reason, unlike Nephele. But having been on his own for nearly half his life had also made him self-conscious, intensely aware of how his perceptions could err. A fact which made him gullible, malleable, exploitable. And oh, did he want to please her! To be who she needed him to be.) I am surprised, is all. You– carry such a thing, but you do not show it. In fact, despite it, you are full of power. I regard you in awe, as I believe only the strongest spirits born could live such as that… He couldn’t fathom wondering often if sleeping was safe.

When she asked of him, his stories, he smiled a little ruefully. I have plenty of those, he bragged good-naturedly. I actually have so many stories that sometimes it is hard to remember which ones really happened to me. He looked to see if he got a reaction from her. I’m joking. But I did spend a lot of time on my own, so I made up many stories to entertain myself when all I had was my thoughts. I was born not far, he gestured to the cardinal northwest. The forest across the gorge, beneath the glacier. I am of the Moonpeople, but when I was very young, my mother lost her memory. She took me away with her, so for a while it was just us and those we sometimes met. When we became separated, I… I came here. Fjall was an open book, she would find.

That is probably my shortest story, he chuckled. But I have not lived very long, you see.