life

It was a cool autumn night, and Stitches had just been granted the evening out of night chores around Hengstacer. This would be the first of many nights over the next two years that he would repeat this ritual. His amnesiac mind still curious, on this evening, with nothing to do and nowhere to go, he found himself atop a hill south of Hengstacer, trees behind him, field below, and nothing but the stars glistening above. As he began to count the ones he could see peaking over the top of the canopies in the distant and speckled forest.

Red really does look simple.

He stood up, then, after deeming the conversation with the sad man at the bench completely useless. Turning, he made for the backrooms, he never knew exactly what time it was, but before knowledge of the reality around him returned, he found himself waking up, atop 'his' bed -It should be noted that, ofcourse, the bed wasn't at all his, but rather a rented bed within a rented room, within the rented accommodation of the tavern.

The wind whipped her loose hair into her face, nearly obscuring her view of the ocean before her. It tugged at her skirts, trying to pull her back from the edge of the cliff that she was slowly approaching. She stopped only when her toes could curl and grasp the lip of the precipice. And there she stood, in nothing more than a shift, watching the distant horizon with a gaze so blue that the sea and sky might have been called mere imitations of that fine color.