Assailant -- Year 226
"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Meadow |
MeadowJust past the forest that borders the Field is a broad plain. The grasses here are green almost year-round, often reaching well past a horse’s belly. A few stands of trees dot the landscape, allowing shade and relief from the hot summer sun. Several creeks crisscross the lush field, fed by the snow-melt of the northern mountains. All are welcome to congregate in the Meadow. |
Meadow
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