Previously:

A Light in the Dark (Part II)

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Greywatch lay quiet as the snow fell softly.  Though frequented with thunderstorms, the odd snow fall swept in from the bay on occasion, and in this case was oddly fitting with the arrival of Winter Veil.

The Marshal stoked the fire before rising to his feet.  The day had been long, and as the moon rose in the sky, the hour grew late.  It was time to retire.

He made his final rounds to assure the camp was secure for the evening.  First, the ramparts, where he would check on his men atop the wall.  A steady eye stay trained on the horizon while others on the wall huddled around a fire for warmth.  Few words were exchanged in passing but the guards appreciated their Marshal’s presence nonetheless.

The training grounds, where tracks, treads, and sign of wear were covered in a fresh lair of snow.  Cold steel glinted in the training racks under the full moon, waiting for a new dawn so they could be put to use once more.  Straw stuffed dummies stood silent and lifeless, steadfast in their vigil throughout the night.

The supply bay, where crates of medical supplies, barrels of food, and kegs of ale collected snow after their long journey upon The Hope.

Everything seemed in order.  A welcome reprieve in this fel torn land.

He swept aside the curtain which covered the face of his tent and ducked his head as he entered.  Inside of the tent the air was silent and still.  The lantern had long since extinguished leaving the cascade of silver moonlight atop the tent to illuminate the inside.  His bed lay tidy and empty.

He quietly began to remove his armor and placing it on the wooden rack in the corner of the tent.  He replaced his undershirt with a lighter more comfortable shirt, adorned with gold trim on the shoulders and the maltese cross on its chest.  He sat down on the edge of his bed in silence and looked at the bed across from his.

Beautiful locks of platinum blonde hair lay silently upon the feather pillow, the blankets rising and falling with every gentle breath.  He admired the woman he had loved and lost, only to be found once more in the strangest twist of events.  A small smile crossed his face as his mind wandered over their past.  Eventually, he laid his head down on his pillow and pulled the blankets up.

The moonlit canvas slowly shifted shadows as the night grew old, and it was only a matter of time before he felt a tug at the covers.  She climbed under the sheets and wrapped an arm around him as she rested her head on his chest.

This had become a ritual for her, and every night he couldn’t help but pull her close and keep her warm.

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Continued: The Future in a Box

Author Jarrick
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