The snow seems to come earlier every year, but perhaps that's only because Lance has gotten older and every year feels shorter.
It's not unusual for him to be quiet, but he's seemed almost as though he's been avoiding Fiadh and Detlef since their expedition into the forest, less because he's upset by what they found there (which, to be fair, he was) and more because he's afraid he'll be asked to explain something he can't-- and doesn't want to-- comprehend.
But the night has been long and exhausting with the snow ever-deepening, so when Fiadh lights her fire in the morning, Lance finds himself drawn to it on his way back to the guardhouse. Nose and cheeks a bright red against the whiteness of his skin, he holds his hands out to warm them with a sheepish, grateful little smile to the blacksmith. He wouldn't presume to use her fire this way if it weren't relatively clear, by this point, that it's open to everyone.
III
It's not unusual for him to be quiet, but he's seemed almost as though he's been avoiding Fiadh and Detlef since their expedition into the forest, less because he's upset by what they found there (which, to be fair, he was) and more because he's afraid he'll be asked to explain something he can't-- and doesn't want to-- comprehend.
But the night has been long and exhausting with the snow ever-deepening, so when Fiadh lights her fire in the morning, Lance finds himself drawn to it on his way back to the guardhouse.
Nose and cheeks a bright red against the whiteness of his skin, he holds his hands out to warm them with a sheepish, grateful little smile to the blacksmith. He wouldn't presume to use her fire this way if it weren't relatively clear, by this point, that it's open to everyone.