Deepwood Weald Shinin' down on me

Sobs wracked trough the trees of the once quiet Deepwood Weald as below the canopies a young boy ran through. Ludovicus felt that he was surely too old to be crying like this, but he was never one to grow angry in the face of his troubles. The trees were all beginning to all look the same now, and nonetheless he had no clue where to go; back to his father? Moonspear? Somewhere else all together?

The plan had been to make the trip home, not to one he knew but that of his mother. She boasted stories of sheep and battles, scars of honour and mountain peaks so high that only the bravest of their kind would climb them. She said he would be able to meet his grandfather too, the Osman he was named for, but now he wasn't so sure he ever could. Something had gone wrong; maman went to inspect a noise she heard and never came back, and when the sun rose he couldn't find Ignace either. He assumed his brother had gone searching for her.

He had searched too. All it left him with was an empty stomach.

Failing time and time again, waiting to no avail, he had ran back towards what was familiar.