#tobysalt

Bronwyn chuckled. “Aye, I trust ye. And if God forbid my arm does get injured, as long as it’s no’ cut all the way off, we’re golden. I’ll just reattach it.” Wouldn’t be the first time she’d done that particular procedure.

@wildroseofarran​: 

“Look, Uncle Salt, it’s a pretty light for your tree!” Judy climbed into Salt’s lap the moment she could. “It’s gonna look pretty at night now!”

Emmanuel chuckled. “Her passion in life has become decorating your tree.” His gift was something a tad more practical; a new pair of boots. “I think I got the size right.” He smiled. “Merry Christmas, Salt.”

    It seemed clothes was the theme this year. Appreciated. A great value throughout his lifetime, and an honor to receive, regardless of being handmade or store bought.

    “You’ve been a good girl this year?” Judy was given a hug. “I’ve made you breakfast. Go to the kitchen.”

    Salt smiled at his companion the moment they were alone. “I have invited a druid for dinner. Not tonight, but soon. I want her to know you.” Every year he nearly forgot the phrase. “Merry Christmas.”

@wildroseofarran​: 

Bronwyn briefly considered simply leaving Tobias’ gift near their regular meeting place in the woods, but that felt too impersonal. She would just stop by as often as she could until they finally crossed paths.

“Merry Christmas, Tobias!” she greeted, hugging him and handing him the wrapped box. “To keep yer hands warm. I hope they fit.”

    Bronwyn’s hand was brought to his lips, bowed to with the utmost respect. 

    “The gunman will be dead.”