(This writing is a messy stream of consciousness from a scattered mind. Attempting to remain true to the character, it flows where it will, and may be quite puzzling to outside eyes.)
It was a moment of quiet respite. Finally. A moment to breathe. Sturdy arms. A glowing hearth. Soft snaps of burning logs, showers of tiny sparks, keeping the black maw of the winter night at bay beyond the windows.
