Dawn was just commencing, giving the town a little colour instead of the blacks and greys that greeted the citizens awoke during the hour. The last days of summer had finally passed, and soon the rains of autumn would come. A few weeks later the first snows of winter would follow. Frigid, harsh gales blew through the undulating lands of Hargeon and into a particular apartment where the windows were ajar. Beige curtains billowed in and out through the window like pale flags, casting a shadow like wind does on the sea. On the bed laid a young girl, no older than twenty years old huddled closely against her blanket that was wrapped around her petite figure, preventing heat from escaping out of her body while strands of silver hair sprawled messily on the pillow.
The blazing yellow orb peeked through the creamy, puffy clouds that drifted over the vast skies before spreading its golden rays down upon the lovely town of Hargeon. Sunlight glared through the window as a soft groan echoed through the silent room of the female’s apartment and dark eyelashes fluttered open, revealing a pair of gorgeous cerulean optics, almost as bright as the sky. The woman took a brief moment registering her thoughts and finally came to a conclusion that it was already morning, yet, she refused to get out of bed. Her slender legs were tangled among the sheets of her blanket as she gazed upwards at the white ceiling, staring into nothingness.
Slowly, her thoughts came to be consumed with what occurred to her during the week and memories flashed before her eyes; the battle between Chelvaric, herself against the Grimoire Heart members. The reason why they had decided to attack them – that she was not aware of, albeit, Snowflake was content with returning alive and the same goes for her guildmates. The youth lifted her hand and extended out forward, as if she was reaching for something. Her hand trembled, upon recalling her fragments of her battle with the Grimoire Heart members. For some who does not feel any emotions, Snowflake was alarmed, for it was the first conflict that she had ever faced in her life. This is what war is like, the woman thought, staring through the spaces between her fingers as if the answers she sought were written in the gaps.
And, to make everything worse, her companion was nowhere near to be found. The last time Snowflake saw her was at the battle scene and before she could do anything else, Vysella fled without saying another word to her. Perhaps, the snow fox was already sick of her owner. That can’t be. From her lips is an exasperated breath, her frustration manifesting as she fingered the bridge of her nose. The snow-haired female was still cladded in her bed robes as she tried to slide of out of her bed, her pale feet resting on the cold, hard floor before pushing herself off the bed, considering that doing something else other than remaining in bed would get her mind off things.