It was in Fae Grove my mother went to at the behest of Clan Dalca, a place far from the judging eye of most mortals, deep in the prairies of Saskatchewan, it was here on the cold metal table of the clinic that a baby was born as the leaves were colourful and started to fall, the autumn of 1973. A wild child this baby was, by the age of 1 and a half he was walking and discovering, he grew quickly...so quickly he had to be monitored,every summer until he was 18 his mother would take him to Romania, to the base of the Carpathians to be taught by the men of the tribe how to be a man, anywho by the age of 5 he began to grasp magic, nearby native tribes and the magi of Fae Grove taught him, by the age of 10 he had learned how to control basic elemental magic and to rip object through slipstreams, but he quickly tired. On his 14th birthday his personality took a drastic turn, he became dark and sullen, obsessed with mortality, this phase carried for many years, even persisting to this day. On his 16th birthday he found love, a mortal boy from a town nearby, and by nearby about a two hour bus ride, they went through high school in a deep passion, on my 17th birthday this passion continued and a gift was given to me, I call it Mizhak, Wicked....it is a shotgun I carry to this day. Anywho to prom we went, to the wilds they danced, on the 19th anniversary of my birth I lost him...to the wendigo, which enacted a vengeance across the province against all wendigo, i fought them until my 34th birthday. Now I rest, I have found love again, joined the Dragon, all is good. A short story but a sweet one.