The Xenosmilus kicked a stone out of his way as he continued his patrol of the temporary camp's perimeter. The night simply watched as he moved on, his eyes searching for any movement. This was routine, regular. Something from his old life that he could hold onto. Something that reminded him of who he was, when he was helping others and saving weaker beings.
His feet stilled, as did his breath as something within his memories unlocked and then locked again. The faintest hint of something, a scent, a sight, a sound. The sudden clamor of voices, laughter, clinking of mugs of mead. His head reeled to the left so fast and with such force he went down with a heavy whump."Ah.." Was all he could say. This was different. And as the sounds faded, he found himself able to breath again. But he just stayed there, in the dirt, where a rose crawled from the earth and latched on, a brilliant white in the midnight moon.
BYRIATH - GURU OF THE COALITION - FALLEN GOD OF WAR