As the sun sank into the west, the forest canopy stood black against the burning sky. A haunting wind wandered through the wood, whispering wild secrets among the trees. High up in the sky laid the moon, the blackness about her drinking in her silvery beauty as the traveler amongst the ground entered the forest. Baine trod a narrow dirt path as the lights of a village winked out behind him, vanishing into the dusk. Wind stirred his long auburn hair. His boots crunched on fallen leaves as his route wove upward, climbing the hill in sharp, sudden turns. Although the way would have confused another, the young man did not hesitate. He held a staff before him--as if the stone dragon head at its tip were a compass or guide.<br/>When he drew near the hillside, he left the path and plunged into the underbrush, tripping in his haste over protruding roots. Thorns snagged his tattered cloak, and spiderwebs broke over his face and arms. The man crept to the edge of the clearing and crouched behind a patch of brambles. He tightened his grip on his staff and peered out at a clearing, where an unidentifiable creature seemed to be roasting something on a fire. Though the fire was bright, the darkness of the forest seemed determined to cast a shadowy veil on the creature.<br/>The man did not move but only watched. The warmth of the fire lightly toasting Baine's chilled body.