Dawnlark Plains oh, my world is still

set a day after this

the storm continued to rage outside, showing no sign of abatement. imrathil had slept lightly, the heat given off by both he and blodreina enough to keep him fitfully outside of the range of "total discomfort", but not by much.

he had spent the hours he was awake telling blodreina of much of his life that he remembered; his unfortunate encounter with the bear, his rescue by wardruna, his untimely separation from the scarred warrior, to his eventual inception into libertine coterie; whatever blodreina queried, imrathil answered as he could, listening in rapt attention any time the subject switched from him to her.

he was stiff now; their time spent with little movement had begun to eat away at him, and he felt in his front limbs particularly an aching soreness; they were the most battered from the bear, and he attempted to chase off the sense of stiffness by stretching as unobtrusively as he could besides blodreina.