#froa

Rooftop babes.

Froa gently stroked Faewn's hair, leaning across the bed. Little Faewn was situated between her legs, kicking at the furs with abandon as she read her book of fables. Humming left her cub's mouth, as she read the tale, Of Fjori and Holgeir.

Faewn, upon completion of her story, turned to her mother and draped herself overtop of her, making small tugs against her hair. "Do you know any stories, Monah?"

Froa offered a brief pause, then turned to observe her daughter, so eager in her pursuit of knowledge, grasping at the edges of mind for an appropriate story. A wry smile moved across her face, as Faewn was settled against her once more, in preparation for the tale.

Candle Drawing- Day fifteen

Froa loomed over the hearth, stirring the cooking pot, yet her mind was not with the food, or the warmth of the hearth filling the small cabin. No, it resided with her small daughter Faewn, who slept against the hearth, wrapped within soft dreams and wolf pelts.

How strange her adopted child was, with her fascination with both magic and bow, her dark eyes, the little speckles of brown across her cheeks. Even stranger was the reaction the child had to the ways of Kyne, little Faewn who would gasp with each story and cheer upon completion, who sat beneath the sky and meditated on Kyne's blessings, who looked to the old ruins of dragons with a longing in her eyes.

How strange indeed, continued to think Froa who paid little heed to her crackling hearth, when they had seen those odd walls of stone with a scratching of language, how Faewn reacted. The girl would sway to them, entranced, and would claim they spoke to her--

A log snapped within the hearth, finally protesting Froa's lack of attention, and waking dozing Faewn. Though as Faewn turned to greet her mother with her strange rendition of mother, Froa supposed her strangeness didn't particularly matter.

"Hi Monah," Faewn breathed, the last whispers of her previous dreams visible in her voice.