Winter is coming

The Warlord and his adopted daughter strolled in silence for a time down the familiar Armada beachline. Hazel had flourished in the Armada. She had been a scrawny scrappy babe whose parents had abandoned her. In the Armada she had grown into a capable young woman, with ambitions and dreams. He was hers. And if her parents ever returned for her, they would find only the Warlord's teeth. They had thrown her away, they did not deserve her.

He broke the silence when Marshal dove in front of them, catching something near the surface of the ocean and winging impressively back to the sky. “If I’m not mistaken your first birthday is approaching. At the turn of the season, when morning frost touches the plains.” He mused thoughtfully, looking over at the young girl.


"Sirius"