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Little Halfing, big heart (Part 1)
The bitter northern winds of Icewind Dale broke harsh against Sophie's body, wracking her with a horrid chill that threatened to send her into shock. She huddled beneath the thick fur cloak, wrapping it tightly around her body, the hood pulled low over her brow as she leaned toward the small camp fire, hoping to consume every bit of warmth it gave before the strong winds would come to eventually take their full toll on the wildly dancing flames, quenching them, and leaving at the mercy of the bitter cold north.
It had been two days since the dwarves had freed her from their prisons, banishing her from ever returning to their fortress, and casting her out into the cold beyond their gates. Sure, she could have fled to the Great Portal, returning to Baldur's Gate and finding comfort beneath a large pint of ale and the warm covers of her bed; but she'd lost something too valuable to cover with a cloak of carefree denial this time. She'd lost a friend this time, and that hurt her far worse than these cold winds ever could.
Pulling her legs up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, holding herself into a tight ball and breathing heavily into the small gap between in her knees. She mumbled quietly, searching through her mind, running through strings of memory after memory, searching for some answer, some reason for her still being here other than the guilt which was beggining to take hold of her aching heart. She felt helpless, lost, and confused. It bothered her more than anything to know that no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she pushed, kicked, and shoved, nothing would be alright. There was no justice in this for her, because justice was the enemy that had seen her cast out. She wanted to blame them for her problems, cast them out into the cold and call them cruel and uncaring dictators. When she continued to argue, bicker, and toss threats and insults...she knew she was right. Yet now, sitting alone and on the verge of succumbing to the harsh winds which saught to consume her, she felt a taint of wrong doing. She felt a clarity wash over her for a brief moment, and in this clarity...she felt at fault.
It had been two days since the dwarves had freed her from their prisons, banishing her from ever returning to their fortress, and casting her out into the cold beyond their gates. Sure, she could have fled to the Great Portal, returning to Baldur's Gate and finding comfort beneath a large pint of ale and the warm covers of her bed; but she'd lost something too valuable to cover with a cloak of carefree denial this time. She'd lost a friend this time, and that hurt her far worse than these cold winds ever could.
Pulling her legs up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, holding herself into a tight ball and breathing heavily into the small gap between in her knees. She mumbled quietly, searching through her mind, running through strings of memory after memory, searching for some answer, some reason for her still being here other than the guilt which was beggining to take hold of her aching heart. She felt helpless, lost, and confused. It bothered her more than anything to know that no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she pushed, kicked, and shoved, nothing would be alright. There was no justice in this for her, because justice was the enemy that had seen her cast out. She wanted to blame them for her problems, cast them out into the cold and call them cruel and uncaring dictators. When she continued to argue, bicker, and toss threats and insults...she knew she was right. Yet now, sitting alone and on the verge of succumbing to the harsh winds which saught to consume her, she felt a taint of wrong doing. She felt a clarity wash over her for a brief moment, and in this clarity...she felt at fault.