Separating the Skin

Spent most of the night talking to a bird, in one form or another. A druid under it all, I guess, but she’s got that edge to her when she looks at you.

She’s got this theory, you never leave your clan behind. Be like pulling your skin off. Neither a pleasant thought, nor image.

Wonder if she’s right. Could be. Out in the world and done with them all for how long, and where was the first place I wound up when His hold broke?

Back in the damned village.

Ain’t like there’s many there that remember me now. Nothing and no one to hold me to it, and too much pain to let me stay.

But I still went. Needed the sound of the drums and the smell of the water. Needed to find the familiar under everything that’s changed.

Left again, of course. Makes me wonder, though. Am I doomed to keep going back?

Might wanna try the skin thing, if that’s the case.