| " | \n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t Milo had been used to the stares. It's not very often that a creature like him wandered into town like this, and his fellow Yovi hadn't really done much helping at giving him and his older brother's kind a good name whenever they had to go into town to do some trading for meats or bread. What Milo hadn't been used to was the insults. Oh, of course, they were never directly at him, but he could always hear the townspeople muttering under their breath, or hurriedly moving out of wherever he and his brother, Fabian, were headed. "Maker's name, look at those two... who let those mangy things in here?" "By the Maker, one of them's a child... poor little thing. Do you think he even knows...?" "How old do you think that little one is...? Why he can't be but a few seasons..." Of course, Milo could tell he stood out. In a town so far away from his home, he knew that a mouse in loose-fitting traveler's robes wasn't exactly common in these parts. And, his dark coloring and bright-yellow eyes made it fairly obvious he was a Yovi. Of course, Milo got insults to his face, too. Spellcaster. Moon-worshipper. Bright-eyed-heathen. Oh, he'd heard plenty. Milo knew from a very young age that he was different than most creatures his age. Such was the cursed life of a desert nomad, with naught but his older kin, Fabian, to look after him. And yet... Milo also felt he was different in another way as well. At night, at his camp outside of town with Fabian, and he took some time to gaze at the stars before bed, Milo could almost feel a certain... yearning, in them. As if they were calling out for him. For something in the young mouse to awaken. \n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t | \n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t