User blog:Lathagarr Stormgale/Griane Farfletch
The sky was painted in a myriad of hues. Brilliant splashes of apricot and rose laid upon a canvas of purple and grey. A stillness laid thick upon the cool evening air. Even birdsong was strangely absent in the wood. A young mousemaid sat, her back against a tree and her paw gripping the haft of a two-bladed spear. The weapon showed brilliant craftsmanship, but was clearly too large to have been made for her. She pulled the folds of her cloak closer about her, to ward of the chill. Eyes of a soft blue were set upon a face that appeared to have aged prematurely from a hard life. A scar traced across her muzzle and down her right cheek. She let her breaths slow as she took in the quiet of the coming night. Before she knew it, the gentle embrace of sleep had taken her.