By early afternoon, Crevyn had reached the outskirts of the forest. The sunlight, so hot and bright on the road, became cool and dappled. Settling against one of the thick tree trunks, Crevyn decided to take a break and drink some water.
As he took a few moments to rest, Crevyn thought he heard crying. He sat up and listened more carefully. I’m sure it’s crying, and it’s coming from over that way. Getting to his feet, Crevyn tucked away his waterskin, and began to work his way through the trees to the source of the distressed sounds.
After a couple of minutes, the trees thinned out, and Crevyn saw a clearing with a stream running through it. A young woman sat beside the stream, a broken urn beside her. The young woman seemed quite distraught, her face in her hands, sobbing aloud.
Not wa
