I wrote this piece during the winter when I could call on the weather experience of the day. Writing about the bone-numbing cold is challenging when it’s pushing triple-digit temps outside. I found editing this piece in the heat interesting because it took me back to those much cooler days, making me feel the ambient temperatures a bit less. Hmm, 🤔, food for thought.
Morning dawned bright and clear with a single saucer-shaped cloud gracing the blue skies. Lyryk looked out from her meager shelter, glad the air was warmer than it had been the past couple of days. Biscuit wormed his way out of the refuge to find a place to lift his leg. Which reminded the bard of her own full bladder. Crawling out from her blanket, the half-elf shivered, tucking her cloak around her neck to stave off the chill. Stretching her cramped muscles, Lyryk looked for a place to complete her morning duty.
Afterward, the pair trekked north, eyes peeled for the marker stone the sheepherder had said was some three leagues up the path. So intent was she on finding the marker that she didn’t notice the clouds build up over the next ridge. When she finally saw the pillar, the pair stopped to rest, and Biscuit whined up at her.
“What is it, boy?” she asked the dog, looking around for signs of danger. That was when she noticed the heavy gray clouds bringing the promise of snow to her route. “Great,” she muttered.
Searching the area, they found a small cave to ride out the weather. Lyryk managed to land several coneys before the storm rolled in a few candlemarks later. She only hoped she had enough food, water, and wood to keep them warm through the blizzard.
After making the sanctuary as cozy as possible, the apprentice bard unclasped her cloak, then folded the material into a compact cushion to sit and meditate on her situation. She had a feeling they would be here for a day or two, so she settled in and watched as nature laid a fresh blanket of snow across the forest.