"What do you know about yourself?" asked the White Raven.
Maris looked at the man who had just asked her the question, and the dried blood on her face cracked slightly as she lowered her head.
Her gaze fixed itself on the ground while she searched for an answer that had never truly existed in her life.
From the moment she was born, she had carried a curse that she did not understand, a curse that denied her a place in any society because no race would claim her and no banner under which she could stand.
She had been picked up by rogue mixed-bloods like herself and raised among them, surviving without family or protection.
She knew that she had a father somewhere in the world, but never felt any desire or motivation to find him.
Her life had been spent moving from one place to another, living on scraps and leftovers, travelling through forests, hunting small prey, stealing when she had to, and robbing when survival demanded it.
