Winter had begun to cast its shadow across the land and for that, the Lady of the Slain was grateful. Gone were the vexing temperatures of summer, replaced by the frigid winds that the Guardian was so familiar with. In the mountains of the Covenant and the ocean to the south, nothing felt so familiar to her homeland: the frozen fjords in which she had been birthed into.
She remembered living through three winters. This would be the fourth. The Lookout was serene and chilly during the time of day Astred found herself venturing into its depths. Saying she was on patrol would have been a lie. In all truth, the warrioress had wanted to visit the place which reminded her most of Sjóvatn with the smell of salt in the air and the sound of waves crashing against the shore.
It had been an entire season since the warrioress’s presence had graced Covenant lands and she was still getting used to being around those she had left. That particular evening, Astred had left Damien in his alcove and was now seated rather close to the edge of the cliff that surrounded the water, her glacial eyes boring holes into the dark waters that churned below.
Jun 09, 2018 12:41 PM
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