Firefly Glen morgunsól

each step was taken with care and grace, as if her steps could cause pain to the already brittle earth in the heart of winter. small whisps of air trailed behind her, always in search of the familiar scents of herbs she would once surround herself in. but winter was not one to give, instead it took all the plants away, making her ache for days of lush greenery.

blood.

its metallic tang was all to familiar to her. her hazel eyes narrowed as she increased her pace. someone was hurt, someone may be in pain. even if she did not know what to do with her limited knowledge, she was a walking, bleeding heart ready to throw herself into harm's way.

and there he stood. triumphant, imposing, bleeding.

Yōkwe she said softly. Are you okay?