He was a good man. He only punished her when she did wrong, he taught her, clothed and often fed her enough to survive at most. He didn't deserve to die here, far from home; far from anything.he didn't deserve this.she came to this revelation only after the first mound of dirt smoothed over his course and aged features, over his eyes, which although closed still held a bitter resentment around them the kind that bore into her soul."He was a kind man. A man with knowledge even past his old age" She now subconsciously said aloud. now, the soil had covered everything he was and she had laid the shovel down Over the torn grass. She pushed her long ginger locks into her hood and raised it swiftly over her head. She had a boyish appearance and a short stocky frame, with bright compelling eyes with one a dark and chocolate brown and the other a dull emerald green. She put her
Head down and collected the dead man's possessions: a worn silver dagger, an emerald cloak that was too big for her, a map, and a silk purse containing a small amount of money. She gathered her belongings and headed into the forest. The bitter cold following her.
