Nov 7, 2016
Helena wiped the back of her hand over her brow. She was roasted, despite the cold weather outside. The Hut she had just came from had several fires roaring inside and Helena had been working right beside one.
Blood came away on her hand when she lowered it, frowning, Helena started toward her own home, a small place with an unlit fire in the centre and cluttered with books and scrolls and little vials of things. She found a wet cloth, still damp from her wash this morning.
Returning to the outside, she rubbed the mess from her face, relishing the walk and the brisk air. It woke her up. Brought her away from the illness and the injuries from where she came.