Blackfeather Woods want my friend, want my heart’s mend

He remained steadfast as but an inch of a distrust fled from her stare, nostrils flaring as she turned from him. And like a dutiful shadow he followed, trailing after her as she moved among the dying outskirts to reclaim what might still stand of her fallen kingdom. 

Perhaps it was the uncanny way in which she carried herself or the otherworldly air that seemed to seep in the atmosphere around her that drew him to her, and like a sailor to a siren the man found himself entranced, spellbound gaze bewitched by a mere child.