Millshaw

Eira kissed Nimraph and Briar goodbye. Her husband took Briar to the Library while Eira and Dammon waved. Eira looked down to the boy with a smile, "So... Do you remember the beginning of our routine?"

Dammon looked up to Eira with a shrewd look, "Enjoy the quiet, cause no Briar."

Eira snickered, hiding her laugh behind a hand, "No, darling. Try again."

Dammon looked over to the windmill, "Get yardwork stuff on."

Eira gave Dammon an approving nod, "Good. Let's go."

Cook, clean, feed, read, teach, cook, clean again...

Eira was so happy she had stopped working on Millshaw repairs.

As she took care of her animals, as she cleaned up after her labors. As she taught Dammon how to read, as she read up on baby books herself. She shooed the cats away from the chicken eggs, she fished by the pond and spoke with the bog lurker. A deep sadness took her as she felt drained from even this.

Madaurbeth,

Writing after cooking Egfor breakfast. He is still putting my fence around the kitchen coop.

She continued to dust the shelves of the empty, newly repaired house. As she did do, she thought to herself, over and over...

She could not do this anymore. She was useless, standing by while her loved ones got hurt or were put in danger. She even accidentally contributed to some hurts herself. Last night had been the last straw, and she chose to flee for the protection of her babies.

Eira yawned, awakening in her bed. A half finished drape laid across her lap. She was still wearing her dress from yesterday. With a sigh, she tiredly pulled the drape close to her and continued to sew it. Natural sunlight peered in through the windows. The carpeted blue floor was bathed in rays of the sun as Eira continued working on the drape. She just had to fall asleep at the very last one....

Walking down the dilapidated, ransacked streets of Millshaw, a couple held hands as they conversed in the night. Both hooded and cloaked, Nimraph and Eira walked through the small town. Passing some sprawled out scrap wood from the orc raids, Eira tried to distract herself from the destruction by asking, "How did a cookbook wind up in your library?"

She spoke in a light, amused tone. Deep down, however, she did not like the idea of going to that library.

Eira placed her third finished shepherd's pie on the counter. She pulled her oven mit off, reaching up and wiping her forehead. Cooking during the blazing heat of summer was certainly not a good idea. Yet, she had pushed through and made three delicious meals for the workers of Millshaw. Not only had she made three shepherd's pies for everyone, but she also baked her blueberry muffins, which were starting to gain infamy for their deliciousness.

She saw fields of tall, golden wheat. The sun beat down, too much. It grew larger, angrier, and a roaring fire engulfed the feilds in a flash.

She saw white flowers, stained in blood. Puddles of water turned a burning orange, and flames overtook the flowers.

She saw herself, looking up, as legions of fishing hooks flew for her, tips glistening. Then, flames overtook again.