Talvace

Talvace (233) Somehow, Thranduil had managed to sneak off with Gris and Illmarinen in the dead of night. Between the three of them, they were about as subtle as a rock giant going through a deadwood forest, but they made it away from the herd and to the area where the games were without alerting anyone else. The sun was just beginning to rise as they arrived at the iced over lake, but already there were reindeer and rukaan alike running around, launching snowballs at each other, building snowmen, or doing their best to not slip as they played on the lake. It was minor chaos, and that was just how Thranduil and his charges liked it. “Dad! Look! There are so many reindeer here!” Gris chirped, practically bouncing alongside her father. Illmarinen, never one to be left out, headbutted her playfully before sprinting ahead of them. “I bet I can make friends with one before you can!” “Wha- hey! That’s not fair!” Gris sprinted after her brother, rushing to make it to the young reindeer

The far side of the bed was cold, the blankets drawn up and tucked beneath the lip of the bed. When Dominic’s hand reached for the man who had been lying there the night before, it found only cold fabric and empty space. A pang of panic? Disappointment? Hurt? Went through the man’s chest, but was soon drowned out by a wave of nausea and the stab of mistakes he always swore he’d never make again.  An undignified groan pulled itself from the mage’s chest as his eyes slowly creaked open like twin drawbridges stiff with neglect and stuck shut with moss and rust. A sliver of sun snuck through a moth-eaten hole in one of the curtains, illuminating a myriad of dustmotes waltzing toward the floor. If the sun was up, then so was Jochi, and so Dominic would have to be if he wanted to claim the man’s company. When had he gotten so domestic that a hangover would send him crawling into the lap of a man like the farmer who’s bed he’d taken to sharing? He snorted, squeezed his eyes shut, took a

Kestrana to Haspar. Haspar, across Wriysh Lake to Lat Salok. Rest for a day or two, then Lat Salok to Eclein. It was a straightforward plan with races happening near each location and plenty of opportunity to fish and salvage along the way. Once they’d gotten to Eclein, Zade and Runa planned to rest and take advantage of the colder weather there that time of year to get inspections done in a less crowded area. It was a good plan, a simple one that should have been easy to follow.  Should have been.  “Something isn’t right.” Run threw out her hand, forcing Zade to stop his horse or run into it. “We shouldn’t be seeing sand right now.” It wasn’t much, yet, but between the dips of what she had thought were foothills as they approached the mountains, sporadic patches of sand stood out against the grass. “Give me that compass,” she snapped, whirling to face Zade and all but snatching it from him. Galmuur, the dunalino stallion beneath her, snorted at the sudden movement and Numbat, the