The wood of the wagon creaked and snapped, the thin glass of the window rattling against the rising winds. Darkness streamed past the window, broken only by the occasional silhouettes of other wagons and the broken ruddy light of the bonfire. The ambient light painted the wagon's small sleeping section in a violent, bloody hue.
A sharp knock sounded at the wagon's door, rousing the young woman asleep on the bed. Her eyes snapped open, their milky white hue stained red by the dim light.
"Come in," she rasped.
The wagon's door slid open with a bang, revealing the silhouette of a tall man, the apron tied around his body flapping wildly in the wind.
"Nimudi, you hungry?" The man’s gruff voice cut through the air with a hint of a growl.
A smile crossed the woman’s face, the shadows pooling in the crevices of the scars covering her eyes.
"Thank you Grolf, you’re sweet," she remarked.
"S'nothing." Grolf waved a large, misshapen hand dismissively as he stepped fully into the room. He set a large bowl of stew, still steaming hot, on the small table next to the bed with a clunk. Nimudi patted his arm gently as he helped her over to the table, her movements slow but sure.
"It's not nothing," Nimudi said slowly. "You have been a pure ray of light in this darkness. Ever since..." her voice trailed away.
"Maybe..." Grolf growled slightly, before he too stopped. His sharp teeth flashed in the light as he snarled in the silence. "Maybe," he tried again, "this next place will be... better."
Nimudi reached up to pat the tall man’s head, ruffling the fur behind his ears as she sighed.
"Have you... seen anything?" He asked hesitantly.
"I am not sure I dare to try." Nimudi replied, her voice barely a whisper. "Perhaps this Landing place will be better, perhaps not. I don’t know if I have it left in me to hope."
