The sky was clear as the ripples of the lakes rolled across the pebbly bed - the songs of birds a quiet lullaby while the one who sharpens his sword finds his gaze burning up towards the blue of the sky...his eyes lost in a dream.

He had found himself lost beneath the beauty of the forest and flowing water, finding himself seated beneath the shade of a tree where he grinds a stone against the edge of his sword - until the sound of a twig snapping caused him to still his movements.