Morrigan was sitting on the branch of a tree, biting into an apple while watching the young boy. A warrior. Trained. She could see this by his appearance, but also by his soul. Steeled and strong. Someday she and her crows would guide his soul to the place, where the brave Irish warriors usually were lead to. Hopefully he would last longer than most men did. The silver shine around his soul though - it represented the geis he was bound to. Which one was it? The goddess tilted her head a little. Although this young man was the son of the man she had a huge rivalry with, he wasn’t his father. So she slowly approached him, taking another bite of the apple. “Hello”, Morrigan decided to pick up a conversation with him. Why? Because she was interested, maybe? Because she was bored? In fact she couldn’t tell herself. “Are you lost? This isn’t a place people usually enter, you know?”
