Civyl packed in a frenzy, unaware of the dozen voices that buzzed around him in protest. Clothes, boots, bedroll, rope, weapons, canteen, and food. That was all he really needed. The rest he could find or make or barter for on the way. He was ready and turned to go out the door but was blocked by a dozen disapproving faces.
“Where do you think you are going? You cannot leave today!”
“He is abandoning the promise!”
”But he can’t!”
“He has been possessed! Look at his devil’s eye!”
“Civyl Tor Dyias, you must see reason. The Bloom comes in minutes! You must wait!”
“There is no reasoning with him now… There is no hope for our Fiora.”
None of these voices meant anything to him, except that these people were in his way. Could they not see how important it was for him to leave? Civyl shouldered his pack with a determined huff and started pushing past them all, knocking a few over on his way out the door. The sun welcomed him with a fresh breeze that swirled around his feet and tickled his short scruffy beard. The sight he saw was the first to give him pause for the day.
A young woman – still a girl – stood in a flowing white gown before him. Her skirts ruffled in the breeze while her long brown hair danced. It looked long enough for her to have never cut it. “Civyl!” She floated to him, throwing her arms around him in a too-familiar embrace. When he did not reciprocate she stepped back in concern. Her brows furrowed as she addressed him as if she had known him all her life. “My Civyl, wherever are you going? Why do you have your pack on?”