Emberflame Ridge “Don’t nobody love country music- but them lyrics will hit home.”

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Morgan had known where the pack was, and while he let Vetty decide when and where they would start their trek again, he coulda swore she went to go take a nap. But there she was, coming at him, head braiding dark locks through the annoying winds of winter. While squinting through the majority of the slashing frigidness, he wondered what made her get up so soon after a nap. “You alri’ ther, Vetty?” He called through the helix of wintry hate. But as the body neared, he could see this wasn’t his girl as a pair of what he thought were going to be his matching golds turn out to be a pair of emeralds, instead. “Oh, pardon me, miss; thought you was someone else.” 

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