Ysle

Ysle and the lads have gone to sleep, leaving the usual mess to clean up. Ah, well, it's my job after all, and men have other things in their mind, more important things. It feels heartwarming, even, to tidy up after them - like they were my family. A family I care for, a family I belong to, and that I help in every way I can.

It almost feels like I'm still in my home, with dad, and brother. And even sister, yes. Even her.

I wish I had a sister like Ysle. Strong, yet not silly; with a family of her own, and not the stupid ideas of a rebellious little child.

The silvery drops of morning dew slowly settled upon the green leaves of spring as the sun began its journey across the heavens.  The coming dawn had painted the sky into a crimson splendour, and a gust of chilly wind entered through the open window and blew across Denholm’s face, which was only partly exposed beneath the grey blanket. Ysle sighed and moaned quietly in her scenic slumber, and her hair was resting all over the pillow like golden strands of wheat upon a field.