Homecoming
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In the end it was not at all like he had imagined. He struck in from the south, coming up through the Rawlinswood. He had moved cautiously at first, remembering well he dangers to be had when he had left the region. Things had changed in Narfell. He could sense that the moment he reached the region. The differences were subtle, this far out to be sure, but they were there. The woods felt different, the wildlife acted differently. But more than this he could just sense it in his heart.
The return to Silverymoon had been good for him. When he left Narfell for the Silver Marches, the place of his birth, he had pictured it in his head as a homecoming. It almost was, seeing old family and friends, visiting old familiar places. But for all Silverymoon's beauty and knowledge, it had been lacking somehow.
The elves kept camp right where he remembered. It was good to visit old friends there, and he spent a night in conversation, learning of some of the happenings in his absence. Surprising developments, to say the least. When he moved on in the morning, it was armed with more knowledge. And so it was he didn't bother stopping in Norwick, where he had once called home. A brief look at the crystals where the old well once stood, and he moved on. And so it was he knew not to touch the things where they sprung from the ground, for to do so meant death.
And so it was he came to Jiyyd. The town had changed since he left. It was not home for him, yet at the same time it was. For he was back in Narfell, where he belonged. He fingered the wolf fang in the pocket of his cloak, and knew what would come first.
