The Stag And The Little Ginger.

This story is based on events that would of happened in game between my character and her kin. Only they would know what happened during their travel.
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The platinum blonde northerner stared into the flames of their pitiful fire, the snow blending in with her locks of hair. She swiped them away in frustration, huffing slightly. The makeshift tent of sticks and pelts barely shielded the pair from the cold. Britta placed her stale piece of bread onto her lap, wrapping an arm around Kaja in an attempt to warm her. The pair stayed like that for a few minutes, the gentle snortling of their horse and the owls hooting all they heard. Britta turned her head, pressing her lips against Kaja's forehead, before speaking out and breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, gentle.


"We'll find her, little ginger." Was all she uttered, running a hand through the aforementioned hair. The ginger haired Santorski paused, glancing down to her pelt covered lap. In that moment's pause, a million things raced through her mind. She didn't speak even one of them, simply returning Britta's statement with an anxiety riddled nod. A few more hours passed, the two laying back under their amateurly crafted tent. They snuggled up together, eventually drifting off to sleep.

The next morning was different, colder. The two had barely prepared for the harsh winter weather. They took down their tent, rolling up the furs and stuffing them into an old, cracked leather satchel. They had to hurry, the two barely speaking to each other out of the occasional glance accompanied by a meek smile. Once packed, fed and hydrated the two untied the horse. Britta was the first to hop on, taking hold of the reigns. Kaja was next, sitting behind her kin, wrapping her arms around her waist tightly. They had poured over the map of the countryside for hours, routes imprinted in their memory. With a simple kick, the horse raced off. The two Santorski's continued with their travels.

"Soon, little ginger. The fire of the north is not so easily extinguished."

Tags: @MantaRey

christian-page-divider-clip-art-CguTwd-clipart.png

 
This story is based on events that would of happened in game between my character and her kin. Only they would know what happened during their travel.
christian-page-divider-clip-art-CguTwd-clipart.png

snowy_forest_pastel_painting_7a662655ce94575860e07277d354835b.jpg


The platinum blonde northerner stared into the flames of their pitiful fire, the snow blending in with her locks of hair. She swiped them away in frustration, huffing slightly. The makeshift tent of sticks and pelts barely shielded the pair from the cold. Britta placed her stale piece of bread onto her lap, wrapping an arm around Kaja in an attempt to warm her. The pair stayed like that for a few minutes, the gentle snortling of their horse and the owls hooting all they heard. Britta turned her head, pressing her lips against Kaja's forehead, before speaking out and breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, gentle.


"We'll find her, little ginger." Was all she uttered, running a hand through the aforementioned hair. The ginger haired Santorski paused, glancing down to her pelt covered lap. In that moment's pause, a million things raced through her mind. She didn't speak even one of them, simply returning Britta's statement with an anxiety riddled nod. A few more hours passed, the two laying back under their amateurly crafted tent. They snuggled up together, eventually drifting off to sleep.

The next morning was different, colder. The two had barely prepared for the harsh winter weather. They took down their tent, rolling up the furs and stuffing them into an old, cracked leather satchel. They had to hurry, the two barely speaking to each other out of the occasional glance accompanied by a meek smile. Once packed, fed and hydrated the two untied the horse. Britta was the first to hop on, taking hold of the reigns. Kaja was next, sitting behind her kin, wrapping her arms around her waist tightly. They had poured over the map of the countryside for hours, routes imprinted in their memory. With a simple kick, the horse raced off. The two Santorski's continued with their travels.

"Soon, little ginger. The fire of the north is not so easily extinguished."

Tags: @MantaRey

christian-page-divider-clip-art-CguTwd-clipart.png