September 2011
11 tags
Love and Memories
Spring had returned as it always did. It had been her favorite time of year. The hills of Ferelden, often brown under the summer sun’s gaze, were green and blazed with lazy slashes of pinks and yellows as the tiny wildflowers bloomed in celebration of another winter past. Eleven winters had come and gone; eleven springs had painted Ferelden in the brilliant colors that she had loved. Yet...