'My bed.' That was all Toranel could think about while he rode into the white wood. He had always been a somewhat lazy boy, but since his 13th birthday, it had been decided that he would do the heavy labor of hunting and gathering firewood. Old Tredan, Toranel's father, was aging and even if he could still carry firewood, but he would rather have his young and capable son do it for him. After all, for a long thirteen years Toranel's biggest responsibility had been to set the table for dinner. It had been 6 years since that day, the day that Toranel turned 13. He believed that that day was the worst of his life. The day that would change his future forever. It was a small change, going from sleeping long hours and playing in the woods every day to waking before the crack of dawn and hunting instead, but to Toranel, small changes were the only one's he had ever known.

As he rode out, he could see the sun lightly glimmer of the freshly fallen snow. The sun had just rose above the horizon behind him, and it's warm glow served as a small comfort in the winter. His usual route lead him east with the sun glaring in his face, for today though, he had enough of the sun and rode west in search of new prey. He left his horse tied up to a tree and continued to walk about twenty minutes. There he rested, leaning against a tree. The white wood was know for its short trees, the tallest being about 5 meters, and its trunks being considerably skinny as well. It was hard to blend in with the white wood, but with enough concentration, it is said that one can force himself to become discreet in an open field. Toranel waited, eyes closed for what seemed to pass in a blink, but was really a matter of hours. At the first sign of life, he calmly awoke, and then quickly threw his knife. The knife was large, about as long from the tip of his middle finger, all the way down to his elbow. He heard the knife plunge deep into the animal which signaled its eventual demise. Toranel arose from his resting spot and walked calmly in the direction of the animal. Though it's fate was sealed, the beast was still quite capable of walking for another two hours. It is widely known, that animals who are on the verge of death fight it with every fiber of their being, regardless of the inevitability of their fate. Toranel knew this as well, so he knew that he had already won. Having found the track of blood, he followed it until he found its corpse laying cold and lifeless only thirty minutes later. It was clear that winter had not been kind to the animal. The legs looked like a skeleton, it's fur had been torn off by something bigger, and it was missing an eye.

The beast was a grezan, a large creature standing as tall as a human with brown fur, antlers that stuck straight back, and talons on its front feet. A proud creature usually, but with a missing eye, it had become skittish and never stayed in one area too long to eat. It was a miracle it had survived this long, but the poor creature finally met its doom. Though frail, it would feed his family tonight, and so, satisfied with his hunt, Toranel returned home.

The white wood was easy to get lost in, remarkably easy in fact, but Toranel had a knack for navigation, and it seemed as though he had memorized the branch patterns on each tree. As he found his way back to his horse, he strapped his kill to its hind, and began back home. Toranel day dreamt on his ride back of a warm fire and hot stew in his hand. He thought that nothing would feel better than laying in his bed, splayed out from corner to corner. The look of bliss on his face had suddenly contorted into worry. As he approached the house, Toranel could hear a distant crackling. Though he had dreamt of a warm fire to relax by, the fire sounded much larger than that. The flames slowly became visible through the branches of the white wood, and Toranel could see his house set a flames. His face contorted into a look of shock, then back into worry, and quickly into rage. His bed, he would dream of no longer, and revenge would plague his destiny evermore.