A Song Of Ice And Fire

History's Returning

It started with my cousin’s naming day. Many neighboring delegates arrived to share in our family’s joy (as well the should). The hunt went well, their were many boar brought down to feed the mouthes of those accepting our hospitality. One particular incident, however, should have caused concern. Whilst hunting with my dogs, who had of course run to the thickest part of the woods, I found myself on foot facing an enraged boar. Having caught me by surprise I did not move swiftly as it grazed me with it’s charge. It swung around and again faced me, raising my axe to bring down the beast. It charged at me with malice. Without warning it collapsed in front of me with an arrow, black as the moonless night, sticking out of its chest. As I finished off the beast I noticed one of the black, sitting astride his mount. Obviously this is the one who had intervened. Well, at least he did so quickly.
Later, as I would think about that shot, I thought that this member of the black would make for shot for the tournament that was decided should have our precence felt. Upon offering this to the man I learned that I had been beaten by my comrade, who took him for his cousin, exiled many years for the slaying the Lady of the House. He still denys his involvment to this day. I must now go and ponder these things as we begin our journey to the south. Perhaps Uncle would care to know who is joining us at this time, perhaps not…



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