Weylin Kyrel
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Life was a never ending cycle of seasons. It was an obvious thing for those close to nature. The Old Folk knew it. The settlers knew it. The birds knew it. One always found their way back to the place they began if not literally then metaphorically. It was impossible to escape the place of one's birth, and of one's death.
For Weylin it was in all these ways.
The wise ones had told Weylin to leave the Spine. It was suppose to be a chance for him to grow and heal. But how could he? It was all he knew and the only home he had left. That fact was made all the more blatant as he approached the charred remains of Hilltop. Already new growth was taking advantage of the ash enriched soil after the winter snows had melted and provided life giving water to the ground. The once tidy gardens were now overflowing with the plants that had been meant to feed families. Seeds and nuts that had been dropped when people tried to flee were already sprouting where they landed. The remains of the dead were barely visible as grass, vines, and moss began to grow over them already. It was the same sight as the ones seen when he past what use to be Riverbend, Treeglen, Meadowview, and many other little towns in what was once a vibrant settler with the sprinkling of old folk community.
But it had been cut short. It was not allowed to grow, mature, and thrive. The orc like remains of the fallen raiders had seen to that. A mysterious tribe foreign to these lands that had attacked and slaughtered all. Orc, human, and old folk alike were slain and valuables stolen. All homes and buildings were put to the torch. It was senseless slaughter with no real aim or reason behind it. All they had wished for was blood and death and they had gotten it.
Weylin still vividly remembered that day not yet a year ago. As he past by charred ruin after charred ruin he could make out the ghosts of the community he once called home. People who's faces he had known his whole life waved to him as he past by their business, their home. The younglings running around playing as the elders yelled and cheered. Everyone working to support themselves, their kin, and their kith. Coins would occasionally pass hands but mostly there was the exchange of favors and good wills.
Yet it had all been set aflame. They all had been run down and murdered for nothing more than enjoyment. It was not natural nor right. Senseless in everyway....
Weylin was at the place he had once called home. The house was a little further away as his family had a bit more land than most to work with so it had been spared from the flames. But it had been looted. The door was shattered still and their small orchard had been chopped down. Strips of cloth and torn up bags and bits of wood and all kinds of junk spoke of the greed and destruction that the contents of it had suffered. It was all so senseless.
Why had he come back? Closure. That was what they called it he believed. A fancy word for a not so fancy thing. The cycle needed to come to a close so that the next one could begin. He needed to see the new growth here to know he too could move on. That was how the wise ones would put it. But he wasn't ready. He was not ready for the winter to end and spring to begin. Green might have flourished around him but it was all still gray and white for him as ash fell like snow all around what he had once called home.
For Weylin it was in all these ways.
The wise ones had told Weylin to leave the Spine. It was suppose to be a chance for him to grow and heal. But how could he? It was all he knew and the only home he had left. That fact was made all the more blatant as he approached the charred remains of Hilltop. Already new growth was taking advantage of the ash enriched soil after the winter snows had melted and provided life giving water to the ground. The once tidy gardens were now overflowing with the plants that had been meant to feed families. Seeds and nuts that had been dropped when people tried to flee were already sprouting where they landed. The remains of the dead were barely visible as grass, vines, and moss began to grow over them already. It was the same sight as the ones seen when he past what use to be Riverbend, Treeglen, Meadowview, and many other little towns in what was once a vibrant settler with the sprinkling of old folk community.
But it had been cut short. It was not allowed to grow, mature, and thrive. The orc like remains of the fallen raiders had seen to that. A mysterious tribe foreign to these lands that had attacked and slaughtered all. Orc, human, and old folk alike were slain and valuables stolen. All homes and buildings were put to the torch. It was senseless slaughter with no real aim or reason behind it. All they had wished for was blood and death and they had gotten it.
Weylin still vividly remembered that day not yet a year ago. As he past by charred ruin after charred ruin he could make out the ghosts of the community he once called home. People who's faces he had known his whole life waved to him as he past by their business, their home. The younglings running around playing as the elders yelled and cheered. Everyone working to support themselves, their kin, and their kith. Coins would occasionally pass hands but mostly there was the exchange of favors and good wills.
Yet it had all been set aflame. They all had been run down and murdered for nothing more than enjoyment. It was not natural nor right. Senseless in everyway....
Weylin was at the place he had once called home. The house was a little further away as his family had a bit more land than most to work with so it had been spared from the flames. But it had been looted. The door was shattered still and their small orchard had been chopped down. Strips of cloth and torn up bags and bits of wood and all kinds of junk spoke of the greed and destruction that the contents of it had suffered. It was all so senseless.
Why had he come back? Closure. That was what they called it he believed. A fancy word for a not so fancy thing. The cycle needed to come to a close so that the next one could begin. He needed to see the new growth here to know he too could move on. That was how the wise ones would put it. But he wasn't ready. He was not ready for the winter to end and spring to begin. Green might have flourished around him but it was all still gray and white for him as ash fell like snow all around what he had once called home.
