Ever since he'd learned about the deal between the monarchs of the city and the hero of afar, Elowen's mind has been anxious. He'd tried to distract himself with mapmaking and completing the job that had been provided to him by the same hero that plagued his mind. But no matter what he tried, his quivering fingers wouldn't let him finish anything. Thus, tired of wasting time, he brought his daughter to the front of the shop and with her sitting on his lap, he guided her fingers to practice mapmaking with him.
Her strokes were whimsical, almost as if she was intentionally messing them up. But in reality it was her inner child guiding her, turning the parchment into a playground for the pencil. Her father did not mind, she didn't have to perfect, as long as she was willing to learn. For one day he would be gone and although an elf lives a thousand years and maybe more, he had doubts that he would live that long.
