#343520 - My father reached clumsily for Mavia’s hand where she sat on her old gray nag and she nodded to him as they turned and rode some way from Chloe and I. A melancholy was drawing itself across my shoulders like a cloak and I chose to sit in the tavern of the inn with my wrinkled roll of parchment and my mother’s pen while Chloe helped my father with airing out our blankets and Mavia made sure of the horses well being in the stable. Her soft blonde hair was a mess on her face, dirt and snow and leaves stuck in it and marring its perfection.
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Alright now wait for the guilt to settle in
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Tell me her name please