Litavis and his wife Maria lived in a cottage a few days north of the town of Moraime and the monastery of St. Cassian, alone in the pine forests cloaking the rocky hills. Much later, Morigna realized that her parents were essentially poachers, hunting deer and wolves and warthogs and even the occasional fire drake, selling the pelts and scales to merchants from Coldinium. But Moraime was far from the boundaries of the High King’s realm, and the cottage even farther yet, so Morigna’s parents were free to do as they pleased. One day Morigna played alone in the cottage with a wooden doll Litavis had carved her, her mother working outside in the gardens. Morigna heard a commotion behind the cottage and went to investigate, her bare feet slapping against the flagstones. “Morigna!” shouted Maria as she went past the garden. “Stay here!”Morigna, as usual, disobeyed.She went around the corner and found her father spattered in blood, a heavy knife in his hand and a half-skinned deer upon a table of rough planks. Morigna stared at her father, shocked.“Morigna!”
