Author's note: I don't own the content before you – this is an exercise in creativity. Please mind the rating, there are scenes of death, sex and swearing.
Summary: so a rogue walks into a bar…/snippets of a young woman's life
So a rogue walks into a bar -
nobody ever asks for the rest of the story because
1, rogues are bad and
2, the only stories that matter are the ones that are good.
...but you look to be an educated sort, so maybe you've guessed better.
They've been travelling for six days and they're low on food. Her sister has circles under her eyes that she could trip over. Frost has started to creep over the ground, and although the cruel smell of burning flesh and charred stone still lingers in the woods, the sickly smell of plague through the fields – they can all see their breath in the morning when they slip through the underbrush.
So it sort of explains why she's lying there on the ground with a man who's old enough to be her father on top with his pants around his knees. It must be a pretty spectacular thing for a man, she thinks to herself as he thrusts to be able to enjoy sex when the world is ending. After a few minutes he groans and shudders, falters.
It makes it easier to slide her small blade against his throat.
*/
Gimli says nothing to her when she returns to their small camp, only helps her wash the smell off her skin, scrub the blood off her clothes. His hands are heavy around her neck, warm and comforting around her hips. The surge of light around her middle is hot and bright and even if she closes her eyes the shine is still there.
Hayley giggles at her spoils: a couple of blankets, clothes that can be resized with a couple of stitches, bandages, water and dried food (beef jerky, apple rings, hazelnuts).
Ellen sits next to her and drapes the blanket around her and listens to the account of her day as Gimli stirs the fire.