𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧
: ̗̀➛ In 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 the younger twin of Feyre Archeron
has to fight through the thorns of roses just
to survive.
〔Azriel x oc〕
╰┈˚ · ° . slowburn!
...
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╰┈˚ · ° . THE WINTER AIR WAS FREEZING. The cold snow fell from the sky. Snowflakes covered my clothes, hair and eyelashes. Shivers traveled down my body. The only consolation that I had, walking through the snow covered forest, was my twin. Her frail body, too thin from the lack of food and from the freezing winter, walked steadily to my side. The harsh wind had blurred away any tracks of potential animals for our hunt. We had risked much in coming so far into the forest, but we had finished the last loaf of bread the day prior, and the remainder of the dried meat the day before. Only a few hours of daylight remained. It was a danger to be so far away from our family cottage with night soon approaching, but even if the sky would change to black with barely any star to be seen, it was more dangerous so leave this forest with nothing to take back with us.
The icy snow crunched under our boots, the only sound heard other than heavy breaths. My hands, numb from the cold, I signaled my sister our next move. With years of hunting together, we had come up with our own language with hand movements. But even without them, the thick bonds that us twins shared, had always helped us to understand each other with only a look.
We separated, Feyre slowly walked away, hoping to find more luck while wandering around the freezing forest towards the left side.
We knew that this hunt needed to go well. We wouldn't last another week without food, and the money that we had from my job was too little to do much more for a family of five.
I eased into a more comfortable position and calmed my breathing. Hours and hours of training and years of hunting racing through my mind. I knew what to do, every movement was carefully crafted and thought out. I stained my hearing as much as I could to listen to the forest over the wind, I carefully walked with eyes peeled to any sign of animal track or boots. But it was hard to remain focused. Day after day we would spend in the cold forest for food, our bodies slowly freezing under the little warm clothes we could afford. Air puffs escaped my lips as I breathed in a calm and controlled pattern.
I was ready to move away from this small clearing that I found, nothing was there. But luck kissed me for the first time in what felt forever. Bushes rustled across from my position making snow fall from the way it covered the plant.
