His daughter entered the cottage silently. She stowed her knifebelt and gear before bending to wash in the fresh water she'd retrieved. After rummaging through nearly bare cupboards and stoking up the small fire, she managed to produce a palatable breakfast.The kitchen was not where Krena's passions lay, he knew, but she worked hard for him and never complained. Content with little, she was deserving of much. He hardly knew how she'd become this treasure.
His pride and joy, surely, but his sorrow too. If only her mother could see her now. But that was impossible. Flyria was gone.
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