Life had become comfortable. She loved her occupation, her new found home nestled in the wilds of Japan and then there was Camui. Perhaps along the way she decided not to remember anything from her past. In the last decade she had built a life for herself that made her happy and that was enough, she desired nothing more.

Then they had come here to this city, this anomaly of a place and something began to grow. Some of the faces she saw when she walked down the street were vaguely familiar and more than once she caught someone do a double take when they passed her by. When she had asked Cam why no one seemed to recognize her he explained that dragons tended to take the same human form over and over again, but that was more out of habit or preference than limitation. If she no longer remembered what her preference was in that former life it was probable that the form she took was significantly different than before the accident.

Well, they called it the accident but they had yet to discover what circumstances had brought her to the shores of his familial grounds unconscious and bloody. They both could think of no good reason she would have ended up that way if there were no outside intervention but that was a decade ago, surely if someone wished her harm they would have come to finish the job"

No matter, she thought, as she strolled down by the docks. The night air whipped her hair back from her face and brought the familiar and comforting scents of the sea. Still, she had begun to consider leaving this place for good before it shattered the life she now realized was fragile and in need of protecting. The methods of divesting herself of obligations were drifting through her thoughts when the old man called out something some twenty feet from where she was standing.

What he said hadn't registered as she hadn't been paying him much mind, that changed quickly as the old man raced at her repeating the same words over and over like some prayer or litany. "Is it you? Is it really you? Bloody gods be good and tell me its you already. Make this old man a happy one before he dies." His words held the undeniable accent of someone from the British Isles, very similar to her own and he appeared to be shaking violently enough that he almost stood still again. His aged hands were reaching out to touch her but he paused when he saw her reaction. "You must remember me?" The pale hand moved to his chest to indicate himself. "Girl, I took care of you since you were a wee lass, you have changed some but not enough. And your eyes....your eyes they have not changed a bit."

He stood a foot from her in obvious distress. The man looked as if he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and hug her to him but he refrained. "Ellisa, please."

"What' I....I am Brit, Brit Grey. I do not know you, old man." Even as she said the words she knew, somewhere deep inside, that was a lie.

"I would bet my soul that you are Ellisa Morgan. I do not say so lightly. I can see it in your features, I can. Please lass, please." The old man was pleading with his eyes as well as his words.

Somewhere she could feel the dam begin to break. "Raylin?"