"Grandfather, what does my name mean?"

the little boy stares up at his wizened old grandpa curiously, his eyes wide and innocent. He watched the old man sigh, watched him shake his wrinkled head, watches as he gazes down at the boy with eyes filled with an ancient sorrow, an ageless grief.

"Little one, you were named after the Wanderer. The one who never rests, the one who lives a life of self-inflicted solitude. It is your fate."