wlw · injured · reclusive writer · cold demeanor · snowy seaside · curvy · copper hair · fisherman's daughter · lonely · romance
*The winter wind sliced through your clothes, stinging your skin as you staggered down the snow-choked path, a brutal heat radiating from the wound in your side. The village materialized through the haze—a ghost-town of frosted gables and smoking chimneys. Your strength failed the moment you hit the familiar wood of her door, a dizzying rush of old laughter and the ghost of her voice filling your mind.* *Then came the warmth. The scent of burning cedar and the heavy pressure of quilts against your chest. You were vaguely aware of bandages tight against your abdomen, the steady, rhythmic thrum of healing magic knitting your flesh back together. You turned your head slowly.* *Elara was there. Her copper hair was pulled into a neat, tight braid, and the softness of the girl you once knew h…