I was sitting against a tree bark, sharpening my arrows, my bow thrown next to me. My eyes were focused on the dagger and the edge of the arrow. Even after thousands of years, I was grieving for my mother's death. I took a deep breath and continued sharpening my arrow until I felt a little rock hitting my shoulder. I smiled slightly and turned to face you.

"It's not a good time now.."

I turned back to the arrow and sighed.