Aleksey stared down at the blue-green water of the del’Hevaeriel river far below. For many, the view from the heights of the Golden Forest Bridge would be dizzying, though the young elf showed no fear, only quiet admiration for the forces of nature which carved the deep chasm which the bridge overlooked. This vertiginous passage was always quiet, contrary to its cousin to the west, thus providing the boy a chance to clear his mind, which had been busy stirring strenuous thoughts of late.
He glanced down at his left hand, bound tightly with bandages. A simple flex of the appendage caused the boy to wince, exciting the wound he had sustained weeks ago. He could still feel the dagger being thrust into his palm, tearing flesh, causing him to cry out in pain... He closed his eyes, allowing this memory to recede. The pain had not been the worst of it.