[Orual]

"Why am I willing to leave Dale?" Arethin echoed, tracing the woodgrain lines on the table with his finger. He didn't meet Jadae's eyes. "Well, I'm not looking for adventure at all, that's for sure. And though I certainly hope that this book exists, simply proving it isn't my reason either. You see, once we find the book, I plan to use it.

"My father died several years back. I support my family now, though my brother has started to carry his part. My mother was a painter, but she's ill now--very ill. Her medicine is very expensive and hasn't helped a bit. So you see, I'm hoping that this book, this Wanaparma, I'm hoping that it contains a cure for her." He paused. "I love my mother. I really do. But it's so hard, Jadae. I'm twenty-four years old, and all I do is work and care for my mother. She's in her mid-forties. I shouldn't be doing this, not yet. But she's wasting away before my eyes. It pains me to see her like this...to see her fading away, dying a little bit every day. It could take years and years for her to actually pass away, and each day she's in more pain. I don't know if you've ever lost a loved one to a wasting illness, but it's the most awful thing you could ever live to see. It's so hard to love someone so much, and yet wish they'd die--for their own sake. Wishing someone would die because you hate him is so much easier than wishing someone would die because you love them, and can't stand to see them in pain anymore."

Arethin took a sharp, shaky breath, and struggled to regain control of himself. His broad shoulders shook for a moment as he battled the weeping that threatened to come. Finally he composed himself. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I just..."

"It's fine," Jadae said, looking sympathetically at him. "Don't worry about it."

"No, I'm sorry. This isn't like me." Arethin laughed humourlessly. "But anyway, that's why I'm coming. To find a cure for my mother. And, more selfishly, to give myself a chance for my own life."