Dahllie

Her guard shift over, Clara ran across the road and through her yard, up the steps, and only barely stopped to wipe her feet before entering her house. It had been a cold night, and she knew Belle would have heated the place up as part of making a proper breakfast for their little household.

After lunch was done and cleaned up, with less help than usual from Clara – who still seemed to be in a daze of sorts – the youngest Briarwool in Everslade went back to her cousin's house to check on her mother.

The elder redhead was sitting on the chair in the guest room that had been given over to her, and was fussing with the edge of her shawl. The loose threads were getting worse, her daughter saw, and it would need proper mending soon. A light rap on the doorframe got the woman's attention, she looked up, momentarily startled.

The willowy brunette paced quietly as she stood her late-night watch. She had a lot on her mind, but part of it was doing well at her new guard posting. Fortunately, she could think on things so long as it was only her mind that wandered, and not her senses.