Solra's always been the odd lizard out, the last of the group in so many ways. As a druid, she's heir to a destiny of growth, of plenty, of life. Plant the seeds in the ground, and trees will follow. Instead, nothing she buried grew, at least not the way it was supposed to. None of those seeds sprouted trees.

No one's quite sure how she met Siyrai, but everyone knows why she stayed.

After all, not many people will tell you to trade lost destiny for strong drink, and fewer still will offer to buy you the pint in the first place.