Whose A Heretic Now?

All it took was one bad storm for Dómari's life to be changed forever. Some how he'd managed to end up separated from the rest of his family and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't find them. He'd walked numerous routes but each new turn made it seem like he was only getting himself more lost. The boy sighed and shivered. He was hungry… well he was a yearling now, so he should be able to sort of fend for himself right? Peering through the fog Dómari remained unusually quiet. It was hard to get his spirits up and he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever find his family again. Walking absently up a root he balanced there for a moment as he looked out across the marshlands, his keen sapphire eyes peering through the fog.

The dread pirate Isakov had been abandoned by his crew and left for dead in the haunted swamplands of the great witch Moira. How was he to survive? Would he ever get out of this mess alive?

Leaping up, Dómari scrambled up onto one of the lower branches of the tree on whose roots he was perching… well… maybe flailed up was more accurate. When he stabilized himself he peered out again but the fog was still to thick. He couldn't see anything.

If only he could find a landmark, perhaps he could hunt for the infamous buried treasure of Moira's late husband the Duke of Jarlsberg. He would just have to be very, very careful not to wake up any dragons while he was here.