Role

Chapter 6

Gryshilniar has no knowledge of a father, and none of a mother. In fact, he has no
recollection of anything pertaining to how he came to Thera. His earliest
memories are from running free in the frigid south, a barren place for the most part and
a solitary existence. All alone, young and without guidance Gryshilniar struggled to survive.

One day Gryshilniar, usually deft and graceful as he trekked through the wastelands
slipped and broke his leg. In intense pain, Gryshilniar tried to trudge on, to reach shelter
before nightfall. But the pain was too intense and night came too quickly. Soon he
found himself stuck in the midst of a windstorm in the dead of night, unable to move.
He lay there all night, whimpering, feeling sorry for himself. And as morning came,
he made no attempt to move. He lay there, in utter despair, resigned to what he
feared was his end. For another day he lay there, utterly alone, and slowly losing the will
to even raises his head from between his paws. Finallly, he did raise his head. A loud shriek
was heard from the skies, and it even caught the interest of this dying felar.
A large bird, white against the blue sky flew above him, a picture of serenity and
pride. The bird slowly started to circle lower and lower, and finally came to rest next to Gryshilniar
who was now in awe that a bird would dare come so close to a felar. The albatross
lowered its beak, eyeing Gryshilniar warily. Gryshilniar said nothing, and lay rigid under his
piercing gaze. For what seemed like an eternity the albatross stared at him, until he abruptly
flew off. Gryshilniar watched him fly off, and returned to his state of despair and self pity.

For another day Gryshilniar lay there, now beginning to die of starvation and thirst.
But yet again he heard a shriek from the skies, and down came the Albatross. In the birds mouth
was a small gray mouse, recently killed. It lay the mouse roughly five paces in front
of Gryshilniar and took back to the skies. Gryshilniar, doubting that he could even
stride the few paces to get to the mouse, lifted himself and took a first step.
He winced, but took another....and another....two more and he came to the mouse and devoured
it. High above, he heard the shriek of the albatross.

Invigorated, Gryshilniar looked about him. He thought he saw a drop in a snowy bank..and
made his way to it. Sure enough, behind the bank was a cool stream that had made its
way down from a nearby mountain. The felar drank, and again he heard the piercing cry of the Albatross.
In the following days, Gryshilniar learned to walk so as to avoid placing too much pressure on
his broken leg, and soon became near as adept at running and moving as before.
The albatross was not always above him, but he felt that it was always near, guiding him.
Sometimes it would let out its cry, and Gryshilniar would simply look up and nod. Other times
times it would come down to him, and for long moments they would stare into each others eyes.
They were silent, but an unseen communication passed between the two.

One day, a full year from the time he had lay desparate in the snow, Gryshilniar
set out from the frigid south to the northlands, an odd gleam in his eye, and a firm
grip on his staff. A great white albatross circled overhead