The drow came back to consciousness slowly; first noting the feel of cool air on his face, then the feel of a blanket around his body and the constricting tightness that could only come from a bandage. The sounds of a peaceful night came next, then finally the shooting pain in his chest which told him he was still alive. Involuntarily, he hissed in pain. Nearby, he heard the sound of footsteps, and he opened his eyes. He saw the female elf sitting a few paces away, then turned to see the other elf approaching. He flinched away as the surface elf moved toward him and knelt, expecting the elf to draw a weapon and finish him off. Instead, the surface elf stared at him for a few long moments, then offered him a small flask.

"Drink this."

Carefully, the drow raised himself into a sitting position, and took the flask from the elf. He sniffed at it experimentally as the elf turned away. The flask smelled sweet and the drow was thirsty, but he found himself desiring answers more than whatever was in the flask. Carefully, he set it down.

"Why did you not kill me?" His voice came out low and harsh, more like an accusation than the question had meant it to be.

The elf turned back towards him, looking a bit surprised at the question. "I expected that you would be unhappy at me when you awoke. However, I did not think that you would be upset that I missed."

The drow frowned at the strange elf's logic. Unsure if the elf was attempting to make a joke or not, the drow answered seriously. "I am not entirely certain that you should have left me alive."

"Are you suggesting that I remedy that now?" The elf asked, his voice rising nearly as high as his eyebrows.

The drow shook his head. There were things that he wished to say, but he had no idea how to say them.

The elf waited a moment for him to continue, then sighed. "I have fought drow before, and I have never doubted that I was in the right when I attacked them. With you, though," the elf trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words. He laughed derisively and shook his head. "Usually I am much better at this. Can we start again? My name is Kannath."

Confused, and still wary, the drow said nothing.

The elf frowned and tilted his head. "Usually," he began in a droll voice, "at least here on the surface world, when one introduces themselves it is customary to introduce one's self as well."

The drow hesitated for a moment, unsure what to tell this elf. He decided upon the truth.

"I have no name. At least, none that I can recall."

"That must make introductions difficult," the elf commented. He shifted his legs so that he was sitting on the ground, close enough to touch. He seemed unphased, and entirely at ease, both of which made no sense at all. "You cannot remember your name? That seems like a difficult thing to forget. Where are you from? What are you doing here?"

The drow sighed. "I was hoping that you knew. Or rather, I feared it."

"Feared it?" the elf repeated. His face twisted in confusion. The drow wondered if all elves were this open with their emotions.

The drow nodded. "The first thing I recall is the night sky and the crescent moon. That was fifteen cycles of sun and moon ago, unless I have miscounted. Your group was the first that I recall meeting."

"Then why did you run?"

The drow chuckled. "I am drow. I may have no memory of myself, but I know enough about my people to understand what my welcome would have been. My people are hated here, and rightfully so."

He turned away and shut his eyes against the chorus of voices, feelings and half-seen images the thought of his people brought about.

"We are monsters."

Kannath considered the drow curiously. Even though he had wondered if this drow might be different, he had not expected this type of reaction. The drow's disgust at his own people was something the bard had never expected to hear. At least not from a drow.

The drow shuddered, and his face twisted in pain. Kannath eyed the drow's bandage, checking for any signs that the injury had gotten worse with the drow's moving about. The drow's next words distracted the elf.

"My people kill with joy. I don't know what crimes I have committed or how much blood might be on my hands but I do not doubt that I have killed." The drow's voice shook, and he buried his head in his arms. Suddenly, the drow's seemingly suicidal moves made a lot more sense.

"You thought you had done something unforgivable. Which is why you presented yourself to Iria."

The drow looked up, met his gaze, and nodded. "I expected to die. I never thought that she would …" he paused, seemingly as confused as Kannath had been at the elf's reaction.

"Perhaps she was right." Kannath mused aloud.

The drow shook his head, "I dare not hope that."

Kannath smiled, and asked his next question, though he suspected that he knew the answer. "Have you no faith in the goddess whose mark you carry?" His voice went up as he spoke, as if he was shocked, "surely she chose to believe in you."

"Mark?" The drow echoed incredulously.

The elf laughed and pointed to the drow's shoulder. The drow looked down, and his gasp matched the one Kannath had made earlier that night.

"The mark of Mielikki," Kannath explained, "That is why I would not be so quick to condemn myself if I were you. Mielikki is a goddess of the forests and one most often followed by elves and humans. If you were who you think you were, she would not have stepped in to protect you."

The drow stared at the mark, speechless for a long moment. A rush of emotions filled him. Too confused to even begin to sort through them, they overwhelmed the drow for a long moment. The feel of something being pressed into his hand brought his attention outward again, and he wrapped his fingers around the flask the elf handed him.

"Drink. Then rest. We begin traveling tomorrow."

Filled with a mix of wonder, hope, and profound relief, he did so.