Editing Iscind (section)

==HISTORY==
Iscind lived most of her life in the town of Flameflower in the Vesve Forest. Her father was a Suel Ranger and her mother an Elven Priestess of Ehlonna, though they never married. Her father was a wandering sort and usually only showed up near or after her birthday. Except last year his visits suddenly stopped. She seeks to find his fate. Her lover an elven ranger was killed recently and she seeks vengeance on those responsible.

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"Meleth nin, I was to be the first..," she spoke softly as she laid his cloak over his grave. After she found him, she had chosen this spot to lay him to rest. Underneath a great oak where songbirds sang and near a fast running brook which also made its own music. The sounds of the forest he had always loved. She had loved them too but now they were less sweet without him to share their beauty.

He was lying on his back, eyes open staring at the sky when she found him. How often she had found him so when she roused from her slumber beside him. But he did not see the sky above, nor her as she leaned over and kissed him one last time. With one gloved hand she shut those eyes, thinking the only happiness I ever knew had been reflected there.

He bore only one wound, an arrow stuck forth from his chest, the area around blackened from some foul poison. There were also several splotches of blood in the grass near where he lay. He had struck at least two of those who attacked him, yet no bodies were with him. They either still lived or their companions had carried them away. She searched for the tracks and at least 6 were visible to her in addition to the blood trail. They would not be hard to find. But she would not leave him for the crows to track the wolves that slew him. And so she picked him up and carried him to a better place. Though small she was not weak.

With the task done she swore an oath to his grave. By the moon and stars above, she would make those who did this pay. One stray tear ran down her cheek, but a dead leaf borne by the wind caressed her cheek, as he so often had done, and brushed the tear onto its dry brittle form carrying it away dancing in the wind. "Can your shade not allow me even one tear," she said softly, a smile upon her lips despite the sorrow she felt.

She returned to the tracks and thought there were too many, but she estimated she could take at least half of them if she caught them unawares. And after she fell to their attacks, well she would see his face again, this time not covered in the veil of death. Her father had once told her that truth lies on the lips of dying men. She began to carefully follow the trail, for she sought truth....