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You make it sound like I’ve got some great destiny waiting for me at the anvil, Garryn said, shaking his head with a chuckle. Can’t say I’ve ever heard the forge sing before, but if you say I will, I’ll take your word for it. Suppose I’d better start listening harder.

He leaned back on one arm, letting the quiet of the camp settle around them. The baby griffon nestled in his lap gave a soft, sleepy chirp, its tiny talons flexing against the fabric of his tunic before it tucked its beak beneath its wing.

Y’know, it’s funny. I spent so long believing my path was set in stone, that every step I took had to follow some grand plan someone else laid out for me. But here I am, sitting by a fire, no crown, no council, no expectations hanging over my head. Just a bit of road ahead and a forge waiting for me when I get there.

His fingers idly traced the soft down of the griffon’s feathers as he stared into the fire. The flames flickered, casting shadows that danced against the trees, and for the first time in a long while, he felt… content.

Feels a bit like I should be panicking about it, doesn’t it? No title, no land, nothing tying me down. But I don’t feel lost, not really. More like… unburdened. Free. It’s strange, but not in a bad way.

@Theodora Oridotti