In the peaceful meadow of Dewmire, cold gray clouds hung heavy in the sky. The once vibrant trees in the fields had lost their leaves, dark branches reaching to the sky like gnarled fingers. There were still a few pears clinging to the branches and beyond the fields, the evergreen forest loomed.
Dulce was seated next to the fireplace in the leisure room, for the first time, the hearth wasn't cold, it crackled, filling the room with warmth. A warmth that seemed not to touch the distracted Vampire, he was staring out the window, watching the first flakes of snow fall.
Kath'tan frowned, there had been a cold spell over the past few days, and with it came a despondency that seemed to envelope Dulce.
"Do you need to pay a visit to the witch?" He asked gruffly. The Vampire rarely showed large fluctuations in emotion, so he was on uncertain ground.
