I stalk the hidden trails under the eldritch light of the moon. My footsteps are soundless and my blades swift. I am the guardian of nature and the arbiter of the mother earth. I walk two worlds, running with the brethren wolves and treading the paths of men. I am a ranger.
It was dusk, and Daedra was beginning to wonder where her parents were. She was only four, and having woken up from her nap was feeling the beginnings of hunger. She stepped out of their forest home into the eerie twilight scene. The dark trees threw grotesque and frightening shadows on the orange light of the failing sun. Her mother had to be around here somewhere.
There! Feeble coughing led little Daedra to the back of the house, by the woodpile, where Sarah lay helpless on the ground. She'd been sick for days, doubled over and throwing up black bile. Daedra's father, Garuth, had brought the sickness back with him from his trade in the next town over, and lay wasting away on the bed.
Sarah's coughing grew more and more feeble, until she finally slowed down to a rattle. Daedra ran to her mother and shook her, crying because she didn't know why her mother hurt so much, pleading in vain for Sarah to wake up. Finally, when Sarah's glassy eyes reflected the stars in the nighttime sky, Daedra wandered out into the wilderness surrounding their forest home.
This is what the druids who divined my past have told me. The rest, however, I vividly remember. I had made my way to a grea oak tree, where I sat in its protective circle of roots, and out of the darkness came eyes, great yellow eyes belonging to wolves who had found me. I sat there, mesmerized, as the largest, one with fur as black as pitch, approached me. He sniffed me, and then barked something to the rest of his pack. The alpha male gently set his teeth on my faded dressand pulled me with him as the pack set off, and I headed off into the night, never to fully return to mankind again.
And so I lived, learning the language of the beasts and birds. Yes, animals do have a tongue all their own, but most humans do not understand that it can be learned, or even exists. I learned to hunt, to feel the thrill of the pack as we closed down on a weary buck, the fierceness in which pups and home are defended. And I learned the ways of the forest, how to walk and run without a sound, how to stalk prey for hours and blend in to my surroundings. The leader, Nightfur, my surrogate father, declared me one of the pack, and named me Wild Thorn, the wolf who walks on two legs.
Four years later, a wandering band of elven druids encountered our pack. They were awed by my wildness, and Xanthios, the circle leader, proclaimed me touched by the forest gods. They welcomed the pack, and we lived with the druids for ten years as I learned the skills of bow and swords. I chose the path of the ranger. Finally, after my eighteenth summer, Xanthios sent me out into the world, as all rangers and druids must do. Nightfur and the clan came with me, but we were separated one rainy night as we fought off an orc ambush. And so I set out into the world, to find my family and my destiny.