Another year

The fields have thawed and once more I can prepare to set off. Like every year. Yet for once, I wonder whether to not stay. It has been a long time since I've spent spring and summer in the land of my birth, and Bree have undergone changes since I last did. New people, flooding from all over the world as the war progressed, some staying, some still visiting after news of the dark lord in the south falling have reached me. Does it have something to do with the fool, whom I've found buried under an avalanche in a decrepit tunnel? Maybe, I did grow to enjoy his company, but the idea of learning to fish is equally curious. Assuming the fisherman whom the woodswitch knows is around, instead of chasing salmons upstream, or whatever it is they do when the ice breaks. We shall see.

Either way, lingering for a few more weeks shall not harm me. I may learn something about the locals, perhaps stay the year and help my mother in her hut. We all are tough woodsfolk, men and women alike, but age begins to catch up with her and I'm sure help would be appreciated. Perhaps I will meet those people I have heard about - I had heard plenty of two women in particular that I need to meet to cast judgment on, as words of one man aren't enough for one, while getting to know their view would teach me about them and him both. Plenty might be an overstatement, but when someone is this silent about their past, even a little is plenty by comparison.

I will linger for now. Then, we shall see.