There was something about hard work that she appreciated. It was honest and it was real. There were no shortcuts, no getting around it and it kept her mind occupied. Her deep brown ponytail swung to the side as she let the hammer fall against the steel. Her other hand braced across the top of the Kryss to keep it from slipping she put her full weight, all 98 pounds of her, behind each blow. With every ting that echoed off the moist stone walls another inch of metal was forged into place. Beyond the Smithing structure lay Umbra. Cold and constantly overcast it lacked the one thing she truly craved more than the sweat of her own brow and the ache in her back. It lacked sunlight. Closing her eyes if only for a moment she drifted back. Nineteen years faded into the dim light of the candles and embers of her forge. Back through the dank and overflowing selection of orphanages she drifted. Back further past the Demons blocking out every last shred of what she could see of her island. And finally back to a run through a tiny strip of grass, where a three year old Lynne basked in the rays that were so plentiful. Legs rounded by mounds of baby fat hopped haphazardly across the blades of green. There was laughter, smiles and above all...There were her parents.