Forsaking God to kiss someone you hate might not be a smart decision, but damn does it hurt good.
✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*
Judith was never supposed to fall in love- but she was never supposed to become a vampire either. It's her duty as a nu...
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
I woke up the next night with an agonizing headache, and an achingly dry mouth. As I sat up, I realized that I was covered in Ayla's thick fur coat.
She sat beside me, fletching arrows with a focused look on her face.
"Good morning, little pup." She said without looking up from her task.
"How did I end up in your tent?" I rasped, looking around the cramped space.
She smiled a little bit.
"You passed out and I carried you in here"
"I feel awful."
She picked up a canteen and handed it over to me. I thanked her and quickly downed it.
"Er, perhaps I shouldn't have given you something so strong."
I grimaced as I sat up, and pulled the fur tighter around my shoulders. It was cold today. It seemed the winter was really starting to set in.
Ayla didn't seem too bothered by it, though I did assume that the cold would be much more biting in The Far North. She was probably used to such weather. It was where she was from after all.
"I missed my afternoon prayers." I said absently. It was more to myself, but Ayla responded anyway.
"I'm sure your goddess won't hold it against you, just like I'm sure she hasn't anything else."
I winced and looked away.
"Let's hope so."
"We should pack up soon." She said suddenly, putting the arrows to the side. "If we make a good pace tonight, we should arrive at our destination before the rise of the sun."
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
The place we came upon was little more than a shack. To be fair, there were empty beds in the yard which were probably filled with pretty flowers in the spring, but now nothing but gray brown wood stood sadly against the gray blue winter sky. Plumes of smoke rose from the chimney and I nearly melted where I stood at the thought of warmth.
There was a middle aged woman standing against the door to the shack, her arms crossed. She wore shockingly little clothing for the winter weather, though the cold did not seem to bother her at all. She had long, silvery hair that was worn loose, and blue tinged tattoos covering her arms and stomach.
