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Walking Home

Prompt provided by Fleur Lind

The old farmhouse had suffered terrible, a gaping wound allowed the winters chill to seep into every corner. Yet we and the beasts entered. The icy blast was reduced but not eliminated. Smashed furniture and dried dung soon created warmth in a deep inglenook. Then began the urgent task of placing stone upon stone, the wound must be filled. Our guide, skinned rabbits to roast, whilst mulled ale refreshed numbed minds. But the battle was not over. Outside wolfs howled with hunger. The blizzard had created a treacherous land. Reaching the road must wait, if we were not to be the wolfs supper…

At the moment my muse is asleep, so I am having to adapt some of my old story drafts.
This Post Has 22 Comments
    1. Many years back I attempted to buy the farmhouse in my story. It still had a damaged back wall. Access was impossible except by foot or by using horses. The farm had been managed by using a sledge pulled by a horse. You pulled the sledge empty up the mountain, loaded it then let gravity slide it down

  1. “The blizzard had created a treacherous land.” I like where you placed this wonderful line in the story. Beautiful image you included. Trying to imagine traveling through it on foot and agree, it looks treacherous.

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