Second Shadow

Some folk would be shamed to have a name based upon another person. Perhaps they would feel their worth was dependent upon this other person. I am proud. I am Second Shadow, of the Hidden Clan. We move with the seasons, and have flocks like none other in Creation. When we sell our wares in Nexus, we can name our price. We have strong cattle, sure, but our wealth is in our sheep. There is a demesne near the heart of our range lands that gives an exceptional benefit: our sheep, and the wool we shear from them, are very hard to see. They blend with their surroundings.

Since childhood, I have been charged with the care of this flock, and was taught by my kinsman (INSERT NAME HERE). From the first, he was my friend, my teacher, and all I could wish to be. Everything I know about sheep was him teaching, he taught me the basics of reading, and how to recognize dangers of the wild or the Wyld.

There is little I would not do for him, and they said I was his Second Shadow. It was rare not to see him every day, every hour, for we spent much time in the hills with the flock. Together, we faced down the lions, outwitted the barbarians, and watched our sheep grow ever more subtle. Until the day I left. It was my coming of age ceremony. Finally, I was a man, and a bride would be found for me. I returned home, and he stayed with the flock.

When I returned, it was dark. He told me stories of a woman of incredible grace of person and beauty of voice. In her words, he found meaning. He made up songs for her, and watched for her at all times. I was worried, I told him she might be fey, that he should be wary, but he was in love, and it made him angry. He went to her one night, and I followed unknown. I saw her, and she was fair. I could not hear her words, but I knew what she was, and I used my sling and flung my iron shot and it burned her flesh. She was less beautiful, then, but I had cause to regret my actions, for he turned on me and I could not best him. When I woke, she was gone, and he with her.

Once gone to the Fair Folk, no one returns. My Clan mourned him as one dead, and I was given charge of the flock. A bride was found, and we began courting, when the torments began. Strange illusions covering small dangers, harrying me and my flock. I did all I could to guard them, but finally I had to sleep. When I woke, my flock was gone. A clear trail was left, and I followed.

My friend they had taken. My honor they would not take.