i set all my regrets on fire; any

[Fiero]

fiero to anyone
thx »

it is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves

Perhaps, it is his father’s reawakening (if one can call being reassembled and spit out by the sea a reawakening) that causes Fiero to stir. Old blood seems to whisper to relatives long lost. Fiero is slow to listen. Still, he comes, lazily blinking the dust from dark eyelashes. He’s a few months late to his father’s welcome party when he finally steps into the meadow.

This isn’t home, but it is familiar. Familiar in the way a certain scent lingers from a father long dead. The trail has been trampled though, just to the point where Fiero is more suspicious that there may be a witch playing tricks on him somewhere just out of sight, than he is believing. This isn’t the first time he has witnessed death return to life. Old gods get bored sometimes, and drag trinkets back from the hollows to tinker with again. His own father returning from death would not surprise him. In fact, Fiero would be overjoyed if he could believe the muddled scents that lie within the meadow grasses.

Instead, Fiero eyes the treeline, suspicious that there could be someone messing with his head. He cannot be blamed for being a little paranoid. He has, pretty well, lost all he had ever known. He’s not entirely convinced that something out there doesn’t wish him ill as well. But, it is not in his blood to sulk, or cower.

He stalks closer to the treeline, muscles tense and ready. Something is there.

“What’s to keep hidden?” He almost taunts.