Long after this time has passed,
long after fools breathe their last,
long after waters shimmer here,
long after the mists still appear,
long after blood washed away,
long after the curse shall stay,
long after trees grow all around,
long after the last, shall be found.
– Folk Lore of Avrale, Book II circa 510 E.R.
Into the Forest
Coria 40th, 647 E.R.
Sunlight filtered through the trees, and shone upon a young woman with long raven hair. She sat against a tall ancient pine, her face and brown robes bloodied and smudged with dirt. She was a mess, and as the comfort of oblivion slowly slipped away, it took a moment for her to notice she was not alone. Not a dozen paces away a large silver furred wolf was eyeing her suspiciously.