The Mourning in The Morning

[THE MIDLANDS]

The walk to the central forest felt like goodbye, as the trio found their way through the bushes and the lonely roads. Nothing was ever going to be the same and mornings were never going to be as happy as they all knew it to be.

The sun would rise, but that wouldn't matter, especially when they had already been forced into the darkness.

The desire for vengeance and control of the avenged was keeping them same, but that very desire also kept them thinking and overthinking through the different blows of winds, as they tried to think of the possibilities.

The cruel possibility that Criselda of Greroth had already felt her connection to her husband, or worse, that the young Wynter had already felt the nudge of his dying adoptive father.

The desperation in the air made them claw themselves as they walked side by side, their horses next to them with simple supplies that could only keep them sane for three days.