12th of Frost, 119
Since exiting his family’s life, Canna-Mhyreage’s luck has yet to run out. He was fortunate enough to meet a woman on the road ideally doing the same thing as himself. She had packed a majority of her valuables but the woman had no clue what to do with her home. The conversation with her seemed convenient enough, she took a liking to him after hearing his story and decided he would do her a great favor by buying her home. And he did not mind buying it either with what he had left; buying the house actually provided him a destination. Because up until then, the elfling had no clue where he was going next.
He had been traveling with his parents for such a long time that he’s never actually had to think of what’s ahead. The next city always seemed to come to him, offering his next adventure and ideas. He was not fixated on where to go next after running away since it wasn’t usually him that planned their trip. Besides, he just knew that he didn’t want to go to Auris and face the embarrassment of being born outside of the glorious city. It had nothing to do with the city itself, he bet it’s just as beautiful as his mother described it. However, the backlash from his own haunted him and sometimes crept into his dreams. They were always laughing at him, whispering about how his real mother did not love him and therefore, cast him out of society. The elfling woke up shaking almost every night.
The Kingdom of Lorien was not planned but a great new start. He’s sure he has never been there before and Canna-Mhyreage knew his parents would not come there looking for him. The Kul’Sylmeras were proud warriors in their youth, centuries ago they might’ve enjoyed staining their hands with blood and the antics of war above all. In the present, not so much. So he was sure neither would be present in a kingdom apart of a civil war.
Legs pressed against his chest, Canna-Mhyreage sat on the back of a horse-drawn wagon. Nivenhain was absolutely freezing, something he wasn’t expecting. The half-breed knew it would be cold, but not to this extent. He tried to keep his mind off of it by counting his breath, which seemed to work at first however breathing in the cold air was starting to hurt and he began focusing on that. After trying to distract himself with several different activities, the wagon had finally come to a halt causing him to peer over the side of it. The wagon stopped at what appeared to be a border--well, not exactly a border but a part of the city that grew dark and almost scary. In spite of the pathway of this particular side of the city being large enough for the wagon to go through, it almost reminded him of a wet and cold alley with trash accompanied by street rats. He did not like the looks of it and he was hoping the wagon would not drop him off there.
But that’s where his luck ran out.
The driver didn’t say much. He just whistled loud enough for him to hear and make eye contact. Canna immediately regretted it. As soon as he did, the driver lifted his chin toward the part of the city he disliked most to signal him on where to go next. Canna’s eyes grew wide before he grabbed his satchel and jumped out the wagon. He tried to give the driver one more pleading glance before he left but when he tried, the driver just pulled off in the opposite direction he was supposed to head into. In an upheaval, Canna-Mhyreage walked off muttering to himself. “I don’t even know where I’m going.” He muttered.