A time of hunger. Just below the Bride's crown a patch of green glowed in defiance of all that misery. The green was a trick of nature, a meadow blossoming from a bowl of granite and ice. The winds sheared off the bowl's peculiar formation, making a small, warm safe harbor for life. But safety is in the eye of the beholder.
Safety is the false sanctuary of innocent imagination.
And in that time, the time that came to be known as the Age of the Wolf, safety was not to be trusted. Three forces converged on that meadow. And only one was innocent. The wolf pack took him while he slept. He was only a boy, a goatherd too young to be alone in the mountains.