[se] stretched my hands out to the sky

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Lena could only wonder and speculate to herself – pondering if this was the right herald for the stranger to pray to, if these were just mere learning curves, or if inexperience bit harder than usual nowadays. A silent prayer wound its way back to her heart; for Stormbreak, even with its own problems, had always ensured its citizens knew some pathways to the gods.

But acceptance of her invitation reeled instead, and the Caretaker smiled, content in the obliging. “Sure.” From there, they could strike out against the rocks, maneuver their way into town, and wander towards the Tavern, hopefully, without getting too doused by the promised showers.

{FIN}

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm