Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
It was a slow rise to a crouch, feeling the sudden ache in her wrists and knees, when she heard the incoming of hooves crunching beneath snow. A quick, sharp glance upward revealed the outline of a unicorn and rider, and she couldn’t help but wince, out of embarrassment and stupidity. Head hanging, she shook it vaguely, stretching upwards and striving to ignore the flux of blood on the snow. “No ghost thing,” was a quiet mutter, pondering if he meant the daemons.
Cheeks and ears flushed, her eyes flickered from the unicorn and stranger, to the restless herd, and then back to her array of things all scattered throughout the snow. “Sorry for disturbing you,” because she was, before stooping down again to snag at her basket, hastening to grab the herbs and branch dispersed across white.
Cheeks and ears flushed, her eyes flickered from the unicorn and stranger, to the restless herd, and then back to her array of things all scattered throughout the snow. “Sorry for disturbing you,” because she was, before stooping down again to snag at her basket, hastening to grab the herbs and branch dispersed across white.
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm