The silvery drops of morning dew slowly settled upon the green leaves of spring as the sun began its journey across the heavens. The coming dawn had painted the sky into a crimson splendour, and a gust of chilly wind entered through the open window and blew across Denholm’s face, which was only partly exposed beneath the grey blanket. Ysle sighed and moaned quietly in her scenic slumber, and her hair was resting all over the pillow like golden strands of wheat upon a field.
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Snowbourn
