"ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪɢʜᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴜʀᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ꜱᴏᴜʟ."
Tastrim is a town of God, a close-knit community isolated within a forest-clad valley. When winter comes and the pass is filled with snow, folk light their fires, lock their...
"It is right that we should writhe in pain. It is right that we should yield to the impressions that are made upon us by calamities." - Alexander MacLaren
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Songs:
The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim- OST (Town and Village Tracks)
Christopher Young - The Grudge 2 - Gishiki
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The meeting house provided a welcome respite from the snowy night. Witch Mother and I were the last to enter there, having trailed behind the townsfolk as we returned. Witch Mother was weary, and took her time to tread through the snow. But once we stepped foot inside the meeting house, greeted by the warmth of roaring fires, she smiled and gave a sigh.
"The winter will pass, Netalie," she said, giving my arm a squeeze. "As it always does. Do not fret. Go now. Visit with your father and friends. Break your fast."
I bowed with appreciation, and began to wind my way through the crowd, looking for my father. There was a roaring fire at either end of the meeting house, and lanterns hung from its rafters by the dozens, giving the whole place a warm and comforting glow. The table had been set with spruce boughs and sprigs of bright red cranberries nestled around white candles and a plethora of sweet and savory dishes. The air was thick with the aromas of herbs, spices, and fresh baking. The townsfolk were joyful again, having shaken off their cold and the dread of the late-night offering. They eagerly filled their plates, mingling with their mugs of beer and cider, the air filling with laughter and conversation. It felt comfortable, and my worries began to dissipate.
"Netalie!"
I turned expectantly, but the man who called me was not my father. Mason, the glassblower's son, was making his way through the crowd toward me.
"Merry solstice," he said, with a smile that only gently touched his lips but shone brightest in his eyes. My heart fluttered a moment.
"Merry solstice," I said, a bit too quickly. I worried that I was reddening, for my face felt hot. Mason and I had been frequent playmates when we were children. But then I had gone to live with Witch Mother, and in my absence he had grown by a foot and achieved the quiet confidence of a man. The dark, wild hair that had frequently fallen in his face as a child was now tamed at the nape of his neck with twine. His beard was not yet as full as the older men, but I imagined it was softer.
