Snippet #2489037

The Grove of the Spirits...a peaceful place that was once an elven community a long time ago. Now, nature has reclaimed this area for itself, leaving only crumbling pillars and buildings. The Naturan that settled in the nearby village of Vistara now use it as a meditative place, especially during a young Naturan's Rite of Transformation. Connor Tavarin, a young man who lost much, feels rejected by his new clan. He doesn't even remember the last time he cracked a smile.

Connor was supposed to be out gathering supplies for the village, but he decided to make a quick stop here. Placing his palm on the tree between old pillars, he sighed, pondering the reason why this clan treated him so. "Mother...Father...Grandfather...if you can hear me, I'm safe. Safe but alone. This new clan treats me like an outcast. I have done nothing wrong other than survive that ordeal...though maybe the blood I spilled during our imprisonment is the reason. I will continue to live...for all of you." he says before taking his hand off the tree. He didn't know if any of his messages even reach his family, but it brought him some comfort. He looks at an old base of a pillar and decides to sit down, resting his back against it. A gentle breeze blew through the grove, causing his long hair and his fur to sway slightly.