As little Lawk Revlo awoke from his deep slumber, rubbing the sleep out of his tired, gray eyes, he remembered the death of his mother and was thoroughly saddened. The boy felt the loss deep within himself. It was as if a piece of him was now missing. This emotion was quickly followed by a sense of urgency. He needed to find his father and the rest of the family to warn them. The determined boy crawled out of the dense patch of undergrowth into which he had fallen when he’d collapsed. Falling here had unintentionally obscured him from his own family, who had already thought him dead. With the crushing weight of sadness that had fallen upon them, after the loss of his mother and the assumed loss of Lawk’s life as well, they had overlooked his accidental hiding spot and moved on in rapid pursuit of the enemy. Of course, the boy was unaware that a full 3 days had passed. He would not be finding his nomadic family any time soon, especially not while they were on the hunt.

***

When Lawk came to realize he was alone, his instincts took over. Though he had only lived 5 years, he had the intelligence and understanding of a much older boy. So, he began to forage and set traps for small game. In doing so, he eventually found his way back to his former home. The structures were all gone. All that remained were a pile of ashes, which he knew to be from the funeral pyre for his mother.

Lawk’s family always released their fallen in this manner. It was their way. The body would be burned atop a pyre, and the most prized weapon would be in the individual’s arms. He knew, in his mother’s case, this meant her beautifully crafted and deadly accurate longbow, along with its quiver of arrows. Both were likely buried among the ashes.

However, as tears began to fall anew at the thought of his mother, he noticed something unexpected laying among the remains. It was a hunting knife, identical to his father’s, yet different as well. Somehow, he knew his father had handcrafted this knife for him. It called to the boy, like only an opthenium blade could call to its owner. The metal was extremely rare, and the knowledge of how to work it was known only to his family, the last of the opthen.

Lawk hesitantly reached for the blade, noticing it change from the deep gray of his own eyes to a brilliant moonlight silver. As the knife changed its hue, the calm he had only known once before swept over him again. He marveled at the hunting knife’s dangerous beauty. It was all one piece, a blade, crossguard, and hilt forged as one into a magnificent display of the unrivaled metal. The blade was hefty, long, and broad, with an unusual thickness for a knife. It finished in a drop point and began at a simple t-shaped cross guard. The hilt was as smooth as the blade and long enough for a fully-grown man to grasp tightly, with an inch or two of the slightly curved, rounded bottom remaining below the grip. The knife was somehow simple and magnificent at the same time. No other knife could possibly be so perfectly crafted, so strong, so balanced, and so sharp. Lawk’s father had truly outdone himself with this one. After another moment of admiration, Lawk slipped the hunting knife, which was more akin to a sword in his five-year-old hands, into his belt and walked onward.

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***

Two weeks later…

The boy’s gray eyes widened as he turned to find himself face-to-face with a curious bear cub that was already larger than his five-year-old self. Noticing Lawk was no threat, and with honey on its mind, the cub ambled off as soundlessly as it had approached. The stunned boy decided then and there that he would learn to walk silently, as the bear did. He followed the animal for quite some time, incidentally learning to track in addition to completing his task. It took quite some time, but eventually Lawk was able to sneak up on the bear and any other animal, for that matter.

***

Months later…

Lawk silently made his way along the edge of a clearing, when he noticed a deer bending its neck to graze. He crept toward the feeding animal, weaving around trees and bushes, making sure to remain out of sight. With only ten yards remaining to reach the animal, a dark blur shot out from directly above the boy, startling him and barreling into the unsuspecting doe. It was a jungle cat, muscled and sleek, with a dark gray coat dotted with irregular spots of black, and it was lethal. Lawk had learned another lesson, he realized, that of surprise.

The lessons continued in this manner, until he came across the same, honey-loving bear as before. The boy decided to try something new, and a little later, he found himself approaching the bear boldly and in the open. He carried a large amount of honey behind his back, smeared on a leaf, and the eager look on the animal’s face, as it sniffed in his direction, told him this was no secret. Lawk did his best to exude calmness throughout his approach and slipped into his silvery-eyed state of cool collectedness and control. The bear seemed to instantly relax as well, and the boy presented it with its favored treat. He could feel the elation emanating from the animal and matched it with his own at his discovery. He had managed to intentionally summon the same state of calm that had aided him in his past moments of desperation. And, with the calm had come clarity. Lawk somehow knew he now had control over this ability, and it would never fail him should he need it again.

Lawk continued testing his capabilities and learning all that he could from his surroundings, especially from the wildlife. The recent encounter with the bear had led him to explore his ability to interact with animals more fully, and the boy found he was able to connect with them in ways he could not explain. He ran with wolf packs, fished with bears, and hunted with jungle cats. Furs gradually replaced his quickly outgrown and tattered clothes, and Lawk began to become more and more like the animals, not only in appearance with his fur garments, but also in his movements. The talented, intelligent boy mastered their graceful, silent ways of traversing the woodlands. And, eventually, it seemed there was nothing left to learn.

***

After three years of growing, learning, and wandering the wilds, the boy emerged from the shelter of the trees, and before his gray eyes lay a vastness, the likes of which Lawk had never known. It was the plains region, Laramea, the ancestral home of the finest horsemen of Anchora.