Corrben

Enough information I have learned now to at last begin my most likely tedious search. The search for this Wolfshead. A criminal with many crimes and sins written on him. Permanently like engravings on stone.

Aching pain burned in her feet as she walked through the town.  In her opinion, one should not have to spend so much time standing on their feet as she found guardsmen of the town had to.  If you asked her, Nettie would say it was inhumane and cruel, although she would probably only say that in that moment for her feet hurt so much.  The uniform she wore felt heavy and uncomfortable on her shoulders, but she had not had time to take it off and store it away where it would be safe.

The afternoon sun was just past its pinnacle in the sky and on its way descending towards the horizon when it paused to shed light on the hard-working town of Trestlebridge. It brought forth sweat from the necks of carpenters sawing down lumber, glinted against the swords of guards practicing combat, and illuminated the anxious faces of mothers trying to feed their children with little in their larders.

The dapple-grey horse seemed to be enjoying the attentive brushing of the fair-haired young woman. He had been restless in a foreign stable surrounded by foreign stable hands until the return of normalcy: Ellany smoothing his coat down with a coarse brush after a hard day’s ride.

Miss Charlotte could hear the rhythmic chopping of a knife coming from the kitchen beyond the main hall as she entered through the front door and set her cloak on the peg beside the door. The steady sound was at odds with the sporadic hammering inside her chest, since she had bustled up the hill to the Litwell home faster than she was used to walking. She wasted no time in crossing the entrance hall and proceeded in towards the kitchen.

It's been a while since I wrote, hasn't it?  Lucky for me the guards didn't take my parchment and pen.  Why I put myself behind bars is a rather funny story.

Things had gotten to quite a surprise. I was pretty much speechless through the time of being in Bree.

There was little sleep to be had. The overnight guards' voices, the shuffling of boots passing her cell, the occasional lecherous whisper of the other prisoners, all served to deny her any slumber.

In the quiet evening when all lights in the neighborhood were blown out, one room in the top floor of the Cadien house remained illuminated. The windows were thrown open to let in the occasional gentle breeze, while Ellany was standing at her dresser, clutching a letter to her chest with a dreamy expression upon her face. This week, having hardly seen Corrben, she thought perhaps that he had grown disinterested in her after she had made her affections towards him known.

He stood with his back against the wall, allowing the shadow of the house to hide him from the moonlight. Straight ahead, he made out the pale golden tresses of a young woman walking down the lane towards the very house he was leaning on. Beside her walked a figure that was all too recognizably male. He calculated the distance between the young man and woman, deeming it slightly too close for strangers, acquaintances, business partners, or even friends. He frowned. The young man stopped at the stone ledge that wrapped around the property, but the woman continued forward.