Sigstæinn

Time. Such a curious thing. The order of one thing happening after another. Why was it suddenly so confused for her? Sickness seemed to play such curious games with her. She liked games. I wonder how I can win this one? The man had said that she would get better. He had given her smiles and comfort. His tenderness a stark contrast to the horrors she had been through. But who was he? She could barely remember. He became so confused with the other people that ran around her tormented head.

The fresh breeze of a pale dawn rippled through the streets of Dale Town, rustling the leaves and mixing with the pale sounds of late night drunkards and early morning risers. One of the latter of these was a teenage girl crowned by a ginger mop of thick hair and carrying an oversized basket of apples. Faintly, the sounds of singing could be heard to come from her, the words travelling on the wind:

Oh blessed morning harken to me,

Where dawn and birds sing and be free,

Ah, the wailing of babes. Is there any wonder I am going out of my mind unable to think. Sweet and gentle Kríea, I still do not know how she views our relationship. It was never formally so or ever spoken of. She is so unwell she has hardly moved from bed. I forgot what it is like to be woken at all hours by infants. That is the only reason I touch you, you infernal book.

I met a woman the other day whilst I was brooding over Taala's letter and reflecting upon it, Contemplating what I should write in response but my mind draws a blank. I have not yet formally presented myself before the company. There are too many distractions, I was relieved for it at the time for the woman I got talking to was happy and oblivious and for a short while I could forget my troubles and laugh and joke and have fun.