[For those who missed it and are interested, here's Away, Part 1 of From Sand and Ashes.]
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It wasn't hard to imagine how the forest got its name. It was both dark and cold beneath the canopy of the Black Shroud. Only the faintest trace of sunlight brushed the back of Ashwin Fowler's grubby neck as he crouched behind the brush, hiding himself from the sight of the several qiqirn who were making their way noisily through the forest.
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He'd run out of food days ago and in order to keep from spending what he'd earned that last night in Ul'dah he took to his old trade at the settlements along the route he'd chosen mostly at random. When he made it to Quarrymill he bought a set of clothes in the local style with what money he had left and nicked a bottle of brown dye to cover his distinctive pale blonde hair. Now, trying not to shiver in the sudden late fall chill as he hid from the beastmen, he found himself wishing he'd thought to get a blanket.
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The qiqirn continued on out of sight so Ashwin set off again, heading north. He passed through a network of caves and cellars he'd been directed to by a helpful stranger in Quarrymill -- one of ten different sets of directions he'd asked for in hopes of throwing off pursuit -- the echoes of his footsteps the only sound at times, while at others the bustle of activity was evident all around. When he was through to the other side he turned west, as he'd heard he could find farmland and hoped for an easy meal or two.
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A few bells later, Ashwin leaned up against the trunk of a large tree, legs stretched out before him as the wind rushed through the branches overhead, causing the leaves to rustle high above and the shadows they made to shift merrily about. It was a scene he'd never witnessed before, and he found himself fascinated by the play of light and grass here beneath the boughs of the massive -- well, whatever type of tree it was. Having lived in and around Ul'dah for the whole of his life he could count all the trees he recognized here in the Shroud on the toes of one hand. To make this particular late afternoon even better, the day had warmed considerably and the pear he now feasted on was quite likely the single most delicious fruit he'd ever had the pleasure of eating. He settled back further into the tree, closing his eyes as he took another bite of that magnificent pear. When he opened them again but moments later, there was a small, angry face mere ilms from his own. It belonged to a lalafel wearing a brown shirt, overalls, and a wide brimmed straw hat.
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"What's your name, thief?" the lalafel asked. Ashwin gathered his legs up, preparing to bolt into the forest like one of the several deer he'd spooked on his trek here, but all thought of that quickly faded as he noticed the lalafel's two companions. Directly behind the little one was another, larger farmer. This one was clearly a roegadyn and he held a pitchfork out in front of his body like a weapon. The other was an older hyur, and he truly was armed. He held a bow in his hands, arrow nocked and pointed directly at the now frightened Ul'dahn.
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"I asked your name, boy, and I want all of it," the small farmer repeated. "My friends would like to know, too, I think."
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Though caught off guard, Ashwin still had the presence of mind to come out with one of the many false names he'd given since that near-moonless night in the desert when the life he'd known had ended. "M-my name's Devyn. Devyn Piper."
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It wasn't hard to imagine how the forest got its name. It was both dark and cold beneath the canopy of the Black Shroud. Only the faintest trace of sunlight brushed the back of Ashwin Fowler's grubby neck as he crouched behind the brush, hiding himself from the sight of the several qiqirn who were making their way noisily through the forest.
Â
He'd run out of food days ago and in order to keep from spending what he'd earned that last night in Ul'dah he took to his old trade at the settlements along the route he'd chosen mostly at random. When he made it to Quarrymill he bought a set of clothes in the local style with what money he had left and nicked a bottle of brown dye to cover his distinctive pale blonde hair. Now, trying not to shiver in the sudden late fall chill as he hid from the beastmen, he found himself wishing he'd thought to get a blanket.
Â
The qiqirn continued on out of sight so Ashwin set off again, heading north. He passed through a network of caves and cellars he'd been directed to by a helpful stranger in Quarrymill -- one of ten different sets of directions he'd asked for in hopes of throwing off pursuit -- the echoes of his footsteps the only sound at times, while at others the bustle of activity was evident all around. When he was through to the other side he turned west, as he'd heard he could find farmland and hoped for an easy meal or two.
Â
A few bells later, Ashwin leaned up against the trunk of a large tree, legs stretched out before him as the wind rushed through the branches overhead, causing the leaves to rustle high above and the shadows they made to shift merrily about. It was a scene he'd never witnessed before, and he found himself fascinated by the play of light and grass here beneath the boughs of the massive -- well, whatever type of tree it was. Having lived in and around Ul'dah for the whole of his life he could count all the trees he recognized here in the Shroud on the toes of one hand. To make this particular late afternoon even better, the day had warmed considerably and the pear he now feasted on was quite likely the single most delicious fruit he'd ever had the pleasure of eating. He settled back further into the tree, closing his eyes as he took another bite of that magnificent pear. When he opened them again but moments later, there was a small, angry face mere ilms from his own. It belonged to a lalafel wearing a brown shirt, overalls, and a wide brimmed straw hat.
Â
"What's your name, thief?" the lalafel asked. Ashwin gathered his legs up, preparing to bolt into the forest like one of the several deer he'd spooked on his trek here, but all thought of that quickly faded as he noticed the lalafel's two companions. Directly behind the little one was another, larger farmer. This one was clearly a roegadyn and he held a pitchfork out in front of his body like a weapon. The other was an older hyur, and he truly was armed. He held a bow in his hands, arrow nocked and pointed directly at the now frightened Ul'dahn.
Â
"I asked your name, boy, and I want all of it," the small farmer repeated. "My friends would like to know, too, I think."
Â
Though caught off guard, Ashwin still had the presence of mind to come out with one of the many false names he'd given since that near-moonless night in the desert when the life he'd known had ended. "M-my name's Devyn. Devyn Piper."
