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Young Vincent Amorason was not supposed to be in these woods, nor was he supposed to be outside the walls of Asgard on his own. However, the son of the Enchantress was hardly without his own bag of tricks. He'd managed to slip away from his nursemaids, and keep himself undetected by the guards. One of the other children in the neighborhood had made some remarks about his mixed blood, and he was upset. He needed a good private place to fume, and adding some defiance to the mix only made it feel better.

Of course, it might have been better if he'd owned travelling clothes, instead of his practice mage robes, the ends of which were now getting tattered by his boots and caught on branches as he trudged along. His mood was worsening by the minute.