-goodbyes. He's told he's a good story teller, good with everyone, like he belongs, like this caravan can be his family. His response is non-committal. He broke one promise, he's sure to break another. So, he focuses on the hunt. The only thing he'll let himself be.

-hungry. He offers half smiles and light jokes, ignoring how the sky looked with the stars filling his vision and the broken promise. He would have loved to share that sky but that was beyond him now. So, he sits, entertaining the young crowd with stories of hunts gone by, of close calls and-

For the next monster. The next big thing lurking around the corner that thinks of everything in its path an obstacle. As long as he can swing a weapon, he'll make it swift and just. The caravan stirs in the morning light, peaking in small beams through the trees. He's asked if he slept, if he's-

- ever be attacked by another monster again, as long as he's around. It only cost him everything. A village he refuses to return to and a promise he now understands he will never keep. So, he stands in this mist heavy dark, weapon in hand, jaw clenched, nearing the city of Teziir.-

-the next. Instead, the village was attacked, decimated by roaming creatures, too young to remember but old enough to know being swallowed up by the anger. He broke every promise that day, running from the village in a fit of anger, never looking back. Now, he wanders. He ensures no village will-

-weighing down upon him. How long has it been? How many moons? He doesn't remember, the only thing he's ever lost track of. He does remembers, when he was young, scar free, a village and another boy, inseparable. A promise to be by each others side until they grow old and pass from this world, into-