Life flickered throughout the small hamlet of Durrow-upon-Dunwash. In the middle of the settlement, high on the hill, the Fallow-flame filled the sky with its light. Sparks flew high in the air and the smoke burned white as those that attended the flame added fuel gathered with careful hands.
In the forest tiny glowing spiders scurried on through their lives. In the windows of the houses, candles burned like elusive wishes in hearts and eyes alike.
Thorns born of love and attentive care. Her blood stained the sharpest prick and she was careful as she threw the clipping from the rose bush into the flames.
Spirits around us, watching over: protect my family and friends. And let Morty know we are all right. He would not let it show around me, but he will worry.
Stepping back, she smiled at her little family and tried not to feel the hollowness of her contentment.
Questions born of strength and knowledge. He was getting better at using his sister’s paints to create the rash; the dogs lay wrapped around each other as they slumbered against his leg.
I wish to know my past. Please, just tell me who I am. Help me find out who I am.
He toyed the with black claw hanging from the cord around his neck and listened to the wind in the trees.
Bright eyes born from youth and burning firelight. Her dreams and wishes rose on the smoke rising above the roofs of the hamlet.
Please make Mister Commander Arrow’art be nice to my mama and make her be nice to him, too! I really, really want him to by my daddy, please, please, pretty pretty please!
She smiled at her make-shift family and tried not to feel the empty spot inside her.
Hesitation and doubt born from hours of self-council. The feather had found its way into his pocket without him realizing he picked it up, a habit formed from years of hand-crafting fishing lures and scouting the wilds for suitable hackles and tails.
Let her be at peace. Let her hear my voice and let her know that I will fix my mistakes.
As he stepped back from the flames, his eyes fell on his sister and the Elf and he felt a pull in his chest that he could not identify.
Guilt and self-loathing born from her own heart. The hair curled and twisted in her grasp before she released it into the flames.
Guide him home safe and sound. Let it not be him; let him save us from this trap.
I would gladly give my life if it meant saving the rest of Durrow. If it meant letting him know I am sorry that I failed him.
I am sorry that I failed you.
Please, don’t put out the lights.