My name is Eburianari. In the language of my people it means 'leaf wind'. My people are of the deep Wood and have learned to speak in it's Way, a language of countless meanings and connotations. My name can mean 'leaf in the storm' or 'leaf that is lost'. These days I think of myself as Tattered Leaf for I have lost my husband who never knew he left me with two children unborn.

I hear them playing; running through the house as the wild things they are. Wild things without a father or a mother. One is dead and the other wishes to be.

My darling, most precious husband how I miss thee. I miss the greatness of your gentle heart; I miss the simpleness of your human nature. I must sleep now lest I scream and cry and frighten the children.

My name is Eburianari. I am a leaf tossed on the winds of grief, nearly to the edge of madness. I must remember, now, how the light danced on hair the color of straw, turning it to gold with sparks of red. I must remember the sound of his voice in my ear as he wished me sweet dreams each night and, oh, how he would snore. I remember blue eyes the color of the winter sky in the morning ...

The little things are what I must remember now. Anything more would bring the madness to claim me.