Bree

Madaurbeth,

Madaurbeth,

Bree, a couple years ago

The shadows of the alley were still cover enough to conceal oneself in, though the sun was higher than the smuggler would have wished. From the small nook, she could see any comings and goings from the bookie’s villa.

As I slip my bare feet into the shallow waters of Halecatch Lake, I breathe out a sigh of relief. The waves that lap at my ankles pick up the hem of my dress, muddied from where I had been kneeling at the shore only a few minutes before. I had come down to the lake to escape the busyness of Bree-Town, but also because my painting smock was in a desperate need for a wash and Marsie had refused to do it with the rest of the laundry anymore.

Madaurbeth,

Writing after cooking Egfor breakfast. He is still putting my fence around the kitchen coop.

Entering the estate, Eira trudged in with a thick coat of sweat hanging on her frame, further worsened by the loose and comfortable, yet heavy and hot robe she wore. She sighed, scuffing her shoes as she walked through the building, a feeling of idleness and loneliness marinating inside.

Relief flooded Eira as Nimraph charged in. She stepped back, chosing to be defense while Nimraph attacked. She shouted, "Get lost! My husband won't show the same mercy I have!" 

One of the men hestated, taking a step back. The other let out a battle cry and charged Nimraph. Eira backed into the wagon, aware of Dammon crying. Meanwhile, the second robber had turned and fled.