Snowbourn

Haedley hurried off through the streets of Harwick, not even noticing that he had forgotten his armour in his witlessness. His mind was a mess and he had not even time to think of it. His mind was now bent onto the worry of what may become of him, and on top of it all he was hungry. His blonde braid was bobbing upon his back and some folk turned to greet him, but he did not notice at all. Then soon he arrived at the path to the Mead Hall and skid into a stop, now calming down and gasping for breaths as he approached. 

She beheld him, her cheeks blazed red with blush, and needless to say that his did too. Both in shock; neither had words, neither knew what to say. However, some one had to break the silence or the awkwardness of the moment, Haedley wished to nestle  deeper beneath his blanket like a turtle that could hide in its shell when faced with danger. It was an awkward exchange of stares, and both of them felt it.

Then suddenly a familiar voice called out from above,
"You!"

The Blooming

Chapter II

Flowers of the Spring

The Blooming

Chapter I

One, two, three dead orcs.
The wind in the hair, the green of the Mærc running under the hooves of Fram.

My sister is delusional.

I already knew she was obsessive, but really she's pushing this too far, now. She thinks I'll forget that hissy fit in the Mead Hall, when she accused me to have returned home in the Riddermark on a chase for her fiancé.

It's been several days, so far.

Several, since Ceorlgar and Melowen rode off.