The Fool

The crypt was still. Shadows coated its interior much like the dust that clung to its inner tissue,
and it led one to wonder if it had ever been alive at all, if anyone had tried to fill it with life and
warm bodies, if it had ever been built with that intention in mind. Whatever it was, whatever it
had been, it was rotting. You could smell it.

A shape moved amongst the pillars, a vision of purity amidst the blackened rot and waste.
Guided by her nose, she followed the scent of the world outside.

The blizzard that chased her here died at the doorstep, and she wondered briefly about her
people, her family. She knew that finding them again would be her responsibility, and that
they'd have assumed her dead, lost to the storm. Bittersweet to know that the people she
loved would continue without her.
Her shelter had not been ideal, but what was a lost child to do in such a storm? She had to
admit she had not taken care in her entry, simply stumbled in and let exhaustion take her. But
she had found her way out anyway, so this mistake had been forgiven. For now.

The girl left her shelter to the snow-covered plains outside, coat almost indistinguishable
from the powdered ice. This was not the land she knew. Where on earth had she ended up?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅