My mornings all begin the same, right before the sun peeks over the meadows in the east. While the warblers stir me from my slumber, it’s the western thrasher that motivates me to climb out of bed. That brown bird with its black spots dancing across its breast has some of the most wonderful songs I’ve ever heard. This is when I open the window and spread my arms for the morning stretch, welcoming the lovely day ahead.

“Wait up, Allard!”

You and Burt struggle to keep up with the golden figure striding west through the streets of Windrose City. Everyone had packed with such haste that you worry if anything might be left behind.

“Time is of the essence. Just grab your essentials and spell books, minnows,” Allard had growled just moments ago, strapping on his huge sheathed claymore and checking that the corrupt shard was safely packed. “If we forget anything, Nessie can fly it over.”