Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights 2 and its characters and storyline do not belong to me.

A wading heron startles into flight as Daeghun picks his way through the Mere of Dead Men, winding back and forth to keep to solid ground. His ward hangs back, checking under the infrequent and stubby brush that struggles to grow in this harsh environment. While Daeghun prefers to be practical and rely on pelts to keep them supplied, Summer spends their hunting trips searching for useful plants in general, and rare, local fungi in particular.

She moves through the swampy wilderness with a calm and confidence that almost rivals his own, as if the Mere runs in her blood. Like it did her mother's. She is silent enough that every so often he pauses to look back, to make sure she's still there. Daeghun doesn't need to do this; the Mere is like her own backyard and she spends most of her free time roaming it alone. But he cannot forget what happened, eighteen years ago, when he didn't look back.

He spots Summer just a few paces behind, cropping dark purple grasses with a small silver sickle. He moves on quickly, but even a brief glimpse underlines the way she grows more like Esmerelle each day.

Not that Summer looks much like her mother physically. Her brown hair and olive skin come courtesy of an unknown father. As do her golden eyes: a startling shade at odds with the rest of her coloring. But the angle of her nose, the curve of her cheek, the way she moves through the Mere, almost becoming a part of it… All echoes of Esmerelle. And, as always, it strikes him as horribly wrong that Esmerelle has left this living memory of herself behind, while of Shayla he has nothing.

Some day, like Shayla and Esmerelle, Summer too will be gone. And Daeghun will still roam these paths and hunt for furs, watching the village change around him while he himself remains unchanged, untouched. Because to contemplate anything else would mean stopping. And now, today, he has need to keep moving.

A muffled whine cuts through the air and he spins, drawing his bow with practiced grace as he seeks his ward's position. He finds her crouching next to one of the swamps squat, twisted trees, reaching towards something huddled between the exposed, branching roots. The object of her attention turns out to be a rusty-furred wolf pup. Daeghun dismisses it, instead searching for signs of any angry parents lurking nearby. Only when he fails to find any recent trace of adults does he return to Summer and the pup.

Summer is mumbling soothing nonsense to the young wolf, and eventually it consents to take a piece of jerky from her outstretched hand. When she offers another piece and starts to rummage around in her pack for something else, Daeghun interrupts, "It's not wise to interfere with young ones; the parents usually aren't far."

"She's been starving for days," Summer argues, as if he should be aware of this. "And her leg is injured. She can't walk. They… Her pack had to leave her. There were… strange creatures moving in on their territory."

Daeghun isn't surprised at this, for it seems she takes after her mother in yet another way. "And you know this how?"

"I…" Summer fumbles the roll of bandages. "I just do…" Her brow furrows, but she resumes splinting and bandaging the young wolf's leg. The pup fusses at first, biting at the bandage, though not at Summer herself. Then the girl pauses, distracted. Her eyes cloud over with something as - staring at nothing in particular - she runs a hand over the injured paw, muttering unintelligible words under her breath. After a moment she shudders and sits back on her heels, looking stunned. "The bone is whole again. How…?"

Suspicions confirmed, Daeghun nods. "After the Harvest Festival, I will seek out the Circle of the Mere, to see if they will take you in for training."

"Training? As a druid?" Summer asks unsteadily. But she isn't idle. As she analyzes this, she continues to work on the wolf's paw, unwrapping it, removing the splint, and rewrapping it again with just the bandage. And he'd expect no less. "The bone is healed but the muscles around it are still weak. It will take time to strengthen them again," she explains unnecessarily.

"If that is what you want to do," Daeghun says, in answer to her earlier question. "You have some affinity for it. Now, finish up here. I've asked Galen to bring me a bow, and if he's managed to find one of the quality I requested, he'll expect a fine pelt in trade for it."

Summer ties off the bandage, tucking the knot underneath it so the pup won't be tempted to chew it. She picks up not just her bag, but the little wolf as well, awkwardly settling the pup in her arms. "She doesn't mind if I'd like to call her Sorrel," she begins.

Daeghun doesn't move. "What are you planning to do with her?"

She holds the pup close, facing her foster father with that calm but stubborn look - the one he's been unfortunate enough to become closely acquainted with over the years. "Her pack has moved on. She's scrawny and undersized, considering the season. I didn't patch her up just to leave her to die."

Daeghun frowns. Words are on his lips, ready to protest how impractical this suggestion is. But then he remembers…

There was a hawk once. Light as the air. Swift as the breeze. She hunted with him and watched from above, guarding over him and keeping him company. Until she, too, was gone.

His sigh signals resignation. "If you truly understand what you are getting into… if you accept responsibility for her, then you may rehabilitate her. As long as you don't neglect other responsibilities."

Summer's satisfied grin makes it clear that she doesn't understand the burden of being responsible for another living being - not at all - but Daeghun says nothing as he stiffly helps her rearrange her travel pack so she can still reach for the sling tied to her belt.