Love

Its a nice warm spring day, Im sitting here on the porch, watching my wife and my daughter in the greenish grass thats our lawn. Its so wonderful and sweet to see them both, how I missed you Kat when you were gone..and Alaya, our sweet daughter that is her mother's copy so far, sweet and kind, never fuzzed about anything apart from being fed of course, she seems happy with life, so do Kat and so do I as well. Everything is falling into place for us for every day that goes by.

So it now have been some time since we, The Bloody Dawn brought my wife home from Ost Guruth, when I saw her in the bed there I felt a relief, she was alive still, I hurried to her and kissed her, it have been a long time since I was able to do so. She smiled with a faint smile to me and we talked for a few moments before she introduced me to our daughter, Alaya. I felt the blood rushing to my head when she said that.

The sun had set down, Milcroft were laying there in his bed with a soft smile on his lips. He reached for his scribble book and a quil and sat the quill to the paper and began writing

I do not think I can describe how I feel now..there is so many feelings rushing through my head now, I can not let go of her..I will never do so. She have put a golden edge around my life and she fills me with joy every time she looks at me, when she does I can not help but smile softly to her and glance at her.

With a curved bow in his hand, he marched through the barren wasteland underneath the mask of darkness the land has given him. Soon, he shifted from being out in the open towards the cover of trees and rocks to hide him from sight. He waited, and his instincts were correct for soon, he had heard voices. Voices he recognized – one was croaky and crisp with age and weariness, whilst the other was simply aggressive and showing strength through even his voice.

“Who was it that turned them away? I will find he!

Who was it that turned them away? I will not let you be free!

I will hunt the cause of this departure with my greatest strength,

“How can it be? For my love to die?

How can it be? And all I can do is mournfully sigh. 

I would have climbed a great hill or fend off many a shrew,

Diary,

Diary,

How is it possible to feel this way? To be elated yet so miserable? I feel as though I am walking on clouds as I drown.