LadyFenris66

Early Winter, Year 759 of the New Age Silverthorne, The Silver Vale Sila Smoke. She could smell it. It happened when fire was around. Silverthornes could make fire, and were unharmed by it, but not by smoke. It was something that often meant doom if you inhaled too much. Sila was running. Galloping over the fields. It was dark. She was looking. She had to go faster. She’d come and be to late.  “Simba? Simba!” She yelled. The further she ran, the more the light seemed to fade away. The stars, Luan … where were they going? The scent of smoke became stronger, Sila had trouble breathing. She coughed, but didn’t stop running. “Simba!” She screa...