Not too long ago, a kind hunter had sat down with Damon and asked about his past. It may not have seemed like much back then, but telling his story had helped lighten the burden, if only a little.
Now, here he was, doing the same thing for a fairy girl who seemed to have a difficult past.
As the kind hunter had told him in the past, kindness was reciprocal—what you give is what you get.
Matlock's voice was low. He had heard about the Frost Continent; honestly, it was basic geography. The world only had nine, after all. The Frost Continent, Norrath, was the northernmost of them. As for her birthplace, Winterhaven, he wasn't familiar with it.
Her eyes were distant, her fists trembling as she recalled her past.
"My father was from a family that had acted as the king's blade for generations... a position passed down from father to son."
