~The Sunthron Forest, royal forest of the Elven tribes.
Maedor stood outside the hut, a grim expression on his face. His hands were crossed behind his back and though he seemed calm on the surface, his hands clenched and unclenched behind him.
His pointed ears twitched, the sensory abilities of the elven species had always surpassed that of every other tribe and as much as he tried to keep his anxiety at bay, he still found himself straining to listen in to the words being said within the hut.
It was only that no words were being said, rather there was just the sound of shuffling and movement within as the elusive healer tended to his brother.
His brother, Myona... his beloved little brother was just seven summers by human age, by elven age, he still was just a babe who was yet to feel the sun on his skin, or the warmth of sunshine and the chilling cold of a rainy day.
