Mordevin

Drevorin was lost within a dream which at the time deceived his mind into thinking it was reality. He was standing upon a small hill bare-footed, twiddling his toes within the grass. It was summer so naturally his clothes were fit for the occasion. He felt a strong eastern breeze wash over him as he stared out into a field which held a small house sending smoke from its chimney. He blinked as he heard a voice cry his name, for in those days it was different. A pale raven-haired woman could be seen beckoning him to come to the house, he smiled.