Two Rivers Isle Last night I smoked a cigarette

Ulrich recieved him. He had the bright idea to head for the trees, and while Goliad was leery of them for no proper reason, he disliked the brisk wind that picked up and was eager to follow; he skirted around Ulrich hastily, with high steps to try and avoid the wind and perhaps keep the dark man on the wind-swept side of himself, like buffer. Goliad gave one cursory look out at the grassy knoll and its hills, which were mentioned to him before, but then ducked and moved along.

The wind felt as if it pulsed at his backside and made him scurry faster.

How far back should the tale go? Well, stories have a natural beginning. Where would yours start? I presume when you met your wife - so a betrothal, I suspect. He had no idea how things worked in the northlands, nor how far off base he was in this assumption.

Whatever you are comfortable with as your beginning. It could be this place here - how it formed, why you chose it. I can pick up other stories and details later, too. He would be here a while, or that is what he hoped. The wintertime was not at all his cup of tea.