Much To Do

Kespin listened to the squabbling about him, once again the children fought against the wisdom and matron supremacy of his queen.
“Souls are damned to be alone, forever seeking another yet unable to truly become something more.”
Parts of the fire had died down, leaving ash and smoking wood. Taking a handful of the ash, Kespin began tracing symbols onto his skin, delicate lines tracing what he didn’t know.
“A key. Always a key. No no, a clam? By the river, a clam gazes at its own jesting shadow.”
His arms were soon covered with symbols, his mutterings becoming silent again.
“We need some good mead, can we return to the giants for some?”