Conlan looked up when the young girl approached. With a sigh he waved his hand to ward the seat.
"Be my guest." he spoke quickly and then leaned back to the paper. He leaned back over the parchment, and tried to write again.
M-A-D-O-C...
It still didn't seem right in his head, and he scribbled it out with the same violent swipes as he would cut into a hurlock, before realizing the girl was present. He looked to her apologetically.
"Sorry." He said quickly in a tone that suggested he wasn't. Then his eye caught on the book she was reading. "An eyewitness account?" he wondered to himself. He glanced away from the young woman and images from that far off place drifted into his mind. How anxious everyone was, the first night they came, slipping from the woods, which lit up like they were on fire. When the battle ended, no one slept, celebrating long into the night and even as the sun rose. Conlan was allowed to stay up for it, being paraded around on his fathers shoulders.
Conlan's fist clenched. He'd tried so hard to forget the past, and dreams like this. What had happened now to remind him?