Randall's Story

  These old eyes of mine… I’ve seen seasons come and go. Watched trees grow slow, watched ‘em fall just as slow. Watched wounds heal — people too, if they let themselves. Time’s funny like that.

  This forest’s been good to me. Kept me fed. Kept me breathing. You take from the land, you give back — that’s just how it is. No fancy words about it.

  Yeah, I cut 'em down when I need to. Firewood don’t grow on its own. But for every one I take, I plant another. Raise 'em like I would a kid. Water ‘em. Look after ‘em. Not 'cause I gotta… but 'cause it’s right.

  Wasn’t a bright kid, me. Not like the others. Weren’t quick with numbers or words. But I worked harder than most — harder than I had to, ‘cause if I didn’t work, I didn’t eat. Simple as that.

  Kids these days — lucky. Got their fathers, their mothers. Folks fussin’ over ‘em like they’ll never leave. Truth is, the world don’t work that way. My parents? Plague took ‘em. Took half the village with ‘em. Damn thing nearly got me too, if not for some passing sorcerer — never caught his name. Didn’t matter. I lived.

  Had a younger brother back then. Just the two of us left standing. I was working before I even knew how to write my own name — swinging tools before I held a pen. But I swore... swore I’d see to it he wouldn’t live like that. So I worked. Worked ‘til my hands cracked, ‘til my back ached — for him.

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  We learned to read together, me and him. Sitting by candlelight after the day’s work was done. Didn’t last forever, though.

  War came crawling… Didn’t care much for kings or lords — they all bled the same to me. All I cared about was keeping him safe... and coins enough to live.

  But war doesn't care about what you love. Soldiers came. Took him. Tried to fight ‘em off — foolish of me. Wasn’t enough. That was the last I saw of my brother.

  After the war, I drifted. Hunted for coins. Cut trees to trade for bread. Found my way out here... where men don’t bother you and the trees don’t lie.

  Eventually, I found I was better off in the forest than any city or town. Cities were loud — too loud. Folks fussin' over things that didn’t matter none. Always complainin’, always wantin’. I got tired of listenin’. So I left. Packed what little I had and walked away. Started over. Alone. Out here. Where it’s quiet. Where things make sense.

  Thought I’d survive easy in the forest — turned out I was dead wrong. The forest don’t care if you had a hard life. Don’t care if war chewed you up or if you worked yourself near to death as a boy. It’ll kill you just the same if you ain’t ready. But I was stubborn. Too stubborn to die, I guess. Maybe I had the war and loss to thank for that. Maybe losing everything young makes you harder to kill.

  Years went by. Got older. Worked all kinds of jobs when coin ran low — guide for merchants, hunter for hire, even led nobles through the woods once or twice when they wanted to play adventurer. One of ‘em gave me a book for my troubles — never read it, but I kept it. Wasn't about the words — it was the gesture.

  Time just… kept moving. My hands stayed busy ‘cause that’s what they knew. Stand still too long and you start thinkin’ too much. Thinking’s heavier than any axe.

  Then one day — deep in the forest — I heard it. A sound I hadn’t heard in years. A cry. Small. Human. A baby.

  Didn’t think. Just went lookin’. Even then — gods help me — I hesitated when I found him. Scrawny little thing, wailin’ in the dirt. I stood there, starin’. Part of me laughed later thinkin’ about it — what if I just left him there? But no… even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. Not how I was raised.

  So I picked him up. Took him home.

  Raised him best I could. Named him Gawn. Taught him how to cut wood, how to track, how to live without leanin' on anybody. Hardheaded boy — gave me no end of trouble. But I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t my son. Blood or not.

  Never thought he’d grow up so sharp either. Smart kid. Smarter than me, that’s for sure.

  Heh... well... sure as hell didn’t get that from me.