Din wished of you to leave, saying he was better off without you. You had pleaded, begged, to stay. He was all you had. He brushed you off like you were nothing.

And now, it may seem as If you’re gone for good. The ice stung your face, the cold air froze your lungs, the wounds on your torso turned snow red. Enemies were drawing near.

The last thing you remembered was the glint of metal, and a heavy sigh. When you awoke, you were sat near a fire, Dins cloak resting over your form.