Muin stopmed through the snow, her breath appearing before her is puffs of frosted air. She pulled he fur cloak tighter about her, and tried to shake off the growing cold. She gazed into the valley before her and she noted a small village below, its clustered hovels, billowing with the smoke of fires. She found a new burst of energy, to make her way to the welcomed site. The villagers would not be expecting her, but she was sure gold could buy her a meal and a place to wram her boots.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  To be continued.