Snowflake wasn’t sure what the husband did to render the house this messy, but the pile of garbage and dirt was only making it difficult for them to search clues in the house. The woman heaved out a sigh: it’s been around an hour since they’d last begun their research and somehow, they still haven’t gotten anything. At this point, Snowflake was beginning to believe that maybe she didn’t actually run away, since there doesn’t seem to be any proof at all.
As seconds plodded by, their investigation only grew further. One room with two windows open in the heat, burnished to silver-gray by the winds and fogs of Era. Inside were a fireplace, a queen sized completely worn out bed shoved against opposite walls, a table, one chair, and a cupboard. There were a few baskets, one with dirty clothes, albeit, none of them looked suspicious. No signs of lamp or candles. The only signs of food were crumbs and mouse scat, and probably leftovers that the husband had eaten the last time.
Since Faye had already examined the bedroom, there was no reason for her to be there. The hunter returned back to the living room, opening drawers to see if there was anything remaining. Rubbish, rubbish and more rubbish.
”Are you finding anything over there?” the woman spoke, loud enough for her partner to hear over the distance.
”Wait, hold on. There’s something under the couch.” Beneath the structure was a glimpse of brown leather, and as she’d bend down she’d find an old journal hidden away from clear sight.
926/1,000