Snow, Gingerbread and Fate Part I
Simahaa strolled across the market in Wirough, trying not to bump into anyone. Which turned out to be extremely difficult since it seemed that almost all people from the northern part of Ren (and their animals) had decided to come to the Boestos market today. She didn’t like wide open spaces stuffed with people and their sheep and dogs. If she thought about it, she didn’t like people at all.
She pulled her warm coat closer around her and moved on. She passed many colorful booths filled with all kinds of things: Self-made wooden carvings of the Gods and wooden weapons for the children. Cured meat and beer. Warm clothes made out of the finest sheep wool. The selection seemed endless; booth after booth.
A thick blanket of snow covered all the roofs. It even piled up to small hills in the street. She liked snow. It buried the land under a silent white blanket and everything became quieter, as if the snow devoured all sound and the land was going to a deep slumber.
Even the light became different. Dull and cold she thought, just as her mind on good days. On bad days, her mind was like the bustling market around her. The mess of voices flooded her brain and washed away all her thoughts, leaving behind raw and unprotected flesh. Every time she bumped into a stranger, it could be that small flashes and visions of its fate stick itself into her brain like hundreds of small needles. If she touched the bare skin of someone, it was worse. Her warm coat and thick gloves partly protected her from that.
