Initiation of the Woodelf

''Initiation,' he thought silently to himself. That was what they had called it. It wasn't that the initiation itself was so bad, for it really wasn't. It simply required him to be, well, marked as the tribe commanded, preceding taking the Ancient Ritualistic Vows, which, as he understood were less than life-altering. And so he was. Perhaps it was simply the odd manner in which all these tasks were being performed that got to him - he had fled from the Riiqiek only to arrive in the Arae'thyll Forest near-dead, by a means unknown by him, to be healed by complete strangers, who then, upon his immediate return to consciousness, demanded in very calm and pleasant tones that he either follow the Ancient Initiation process, or have what little healing had been done to him undone with astonishing swiftness. Blinking, as he gazed about the clearing, he took the only course of action he deemed wise in the presence of several tall Arae'yh men armed with gleaming blades... Turning his head slightly, he gazed back at the work that had been thus far completed on his back. 'What's it mean?' he inquired softly. She turned to gaze at him curiously. 'Hmmm?' she queried, consumed with her work. 'Oh... Several things. Prince, mostly...' she continued, not looking up. 'Prince...?' his mind raced, how did she know of his past? Now, to him, even, his past seemed little more than misty tales of fiction created only to occupy his mind. 'How did you...?' She simply smiled, though this time paused for a moment to peer upon his face. He shrugged, realizing he would wrest no answers from her, sighed, and gazed about the small clearing, finding everything a little brighter, if not clearer, and for the first time since the horrid recognition that he had lost something as great as his soul, found contentment...' (thanks to ~Diarmuid a.k.a. Marty~ for the wonderful description!)