Maenwen had had nine years old last year. He was rather skinny, because his daily diet, based on roots and gruel, wasn't the most calorific.

He had inherited his quite curved nose and high cheekbones from his father.

Like his mother, he had blue hair...But it didn't matter. For nobody pointed these details out to him and, over the years, the memories of his parents would fade away.

All in all, he was a small Astrean who, presently, was running away until he was out of breath.

At dusk, it had been a long time that Maenwen had crossed the borders of the lands he knew. When he was on his last legs and tears, he left the road.

He settled himsellf between the roots of an oak-tree, trying to escape from the cold rising wind, worn out, he quickly sank into a restless sleep.