Otatso Wetlands There once was a bittersweet man

He drifts through the wilderness, scaling a mountain just for the challenge of it. By the time he climbs down the far eastern flank, he's delightfully weary. Vermouth glides past a jagged ridge and wanders into an herbalist's dream. He makes an idle mental note, then collapses in a pile of dead leaves.

He wakes feeling sore but well-rested. He takes his time stretching, then begins walking to warm and limber his stiff muscles. Vermouth heads south for no particular reason, the ground gradually growing sodden underfoot. He licks his lips, eager to find someplace to take a long drink.

Instead, he finds a girl. Vermouth halts, eyeing her through the sparse foliage of the wetland. Like the Murkwood woman, she isn't quite white. But the pale silvers and creams make his mouth drier. She's young, her pale face and golden eyes reminding him of his sister. The comparison snatches the breath from his throat.

But he quickly draws in another, nostrils flaring as he wills himself to stay calm and collected. If only she was older -- and didn’t resemble his own relative -- Vermouth would pursue her with all his might. He would do everything to woo her like Prince Charming, so that she fell in love with him and gladly bore his children.

Vermouth hasn't yet decided whether he hopes the mother's genes overrule his, producing a perfect litter of kvit offspring -- or if he hopes to further blight his bloodline's legacy by bringing more svart Kvitravns into the world.

But he blinks all that away, clears his throat, and offers, "Hello there."