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Sharing: The Mistress of the Shadowland; The next Chapter
Here is the next chapter of my Fic "The Mistress of the Shadowland" and I really hope you'll enjoy it.
Prologue - Chapter I
Anwyn had always been lucky to avoid elfs until her 17th birthday, when she stumbled over a root in the forest in the morning while looking for fresh mushrooms and sprained her ankle.
She sat on the damp, mossy ground with tears in her eyes, her wicker basket lying on the head and the freshly collected mushrooms scattered around it. Even the slightest movement of her foot caused such intense pain that it took Anwyn's breath away. How was she going to get home? She asked herself, furtively wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
A clearing of the throat snapped the young girl out of her thoughts and she looked up, only to flinch back in shock the next moment.
She was staring at a large black horse with a High Elf sitting on its back. He looked young, but Anwyn knew that the beauty and flawlessness of youth meant nothing to someone like him. He could have been 17 years old like her ... or he could have spent two centuries in these woods.
"Can I help you?" His voice was dark as velvet. "Are you hurt?"
He let go of the reins, dismounted the horse and walked slightly towards Anwyn, who stared at him with wide eyes. A gentle smile appeared on his noble face as he became aware of her fear.
He raised his hands placatingly to show her that his request was sincere and that she need not fear him.
"My name is Trálír," he introduced himself. Anwyn still stared at the High Elf, though no longer fearfully. Suspicion still filled her gaze.
"Do you want to tell me your name?" he asked and the girl with the dark brown curls, the pale freckles on her nose and the full lips shook her head vehemently.
"Very well, so be it. Will you still allow me to look at your injury?"
Anwyn bit her lower lip for a moment and then nodded hesitantly. Trálír walked over to her, bent his knees and carefully placed his hands on her ankle. Instantly, the young woman winced in pain. While the High Elf carefully felt the rapidly swelling ankle, he noticed that her heart was beating fast and she tried to hide the fear inside her with a brave expression.
A gentle smile played around the Elf's shapely lips.
"You've sprained your ankle. With a little rest and an ointment of comfrey or arnica, the injury will soon subside," he said, looking at her attentively.
"But you seem to me to have a clever mind and know that yourself, don't you?"
Anwyn skillfully avoided his gaze and stared at her ankle. She noticed that her dark green woolen dress had ridden up to her knees and a delicate blush appeared on her cheeks.
"Are you far from home?"
"Not very," she replied in a low voice. "It's a little time away."
"Even if it were only a few steps away, it would only aggravate your injury."
With these words, he stood up, but immediately bent down again and pushed his arms under Anwyn's body to lift her up. Her breath caught in surprise and her body stiffened instantly.
"Which way should I go?" Trálír asked and waited for her answer.
"North. Between the two tall oaks and then straight ahead. As soon as you see the sea between the trees, turn right."
The Elf nodded and clicked his tongue, encouraging his black horse to trot along behind them.
He estimated the young woman to be about 16 or 17 years old, almost a toddler in contrast to him, who was in his 76th year. With every step he took, she relaxed a little more in his arms. Her head leaned between his shoulder and cheek and her brown curly hair gently touched his skin.
When the High Elf had left the two tall oaks behind him, he could see the storm-tossed sea. There were only a few days a year when the sea lay calmly before them, most of the time the waves broke violently against the steep cliffs. Trálír felt the forest floor recede as the Blackwater Bay took up more and more space. His boots sank a little in the soft sand, but his steps were steady and sure. Trálír turned to the east and saw a small wooden house about 30 paces away. He felt the young woman unconsciously stiffen in his arms.
"You can drop me off here," were her words to him but Trálír shook his head. "If I were to drop you off now, it would be too much of a strain on your injury. Let me carry you to your house."
Apart from the breaking waves on the beach, nothing could be heard. There was a stable next to the small house and he thought he recognized a run behind it. He heard the bleating of two goats as he approached with the girl in his arms. Next to the house was a wooden rack on which a dozen squid were drying.
So she was a fisherwoman, Trálír realized. A dangerous occupation for a human, for the sea was no friend to the inhabitants of Blackwater. Catching fish, diving for pearls or even just searching for shells was always associated with a certain amount of danger, as there were creatures in the opaque water that could tear a person in half with just one bite. And that was the most merciful way to die.
Next to the door of the house was a small wooden stool on which he carefully set the girl down.
"Thank you very much," she said shyly and looked to the side in embarrassment. Trálír suspected that she was deeply ashamed of her obvious poverty.
She was human and she knew what the High Elves thought of them.
In contrast to him, dressed in the finest fabrics, she wore a poor garment made of rough wool. Even her leather shoes had seen better days.
"You are a fisherwoman?" Trálír asked, pointing at the squid. The young girl raised her eyes and replied: "My father is a fisherman, I help him."
"Then your father is at sea right now?"
She shook her head. "No, he's in the village to look after my…" She broke off uncertainly.
"Your...?" Trálír raised an eyebrow with interest but she remained silent and avoided his gaze.
"Is it your birthday? Is he in the village to buy something for you?" he asked.
The girl blushed slightly.
"I don't think a sprained ankle is an appropriate gift for you," he said with a slight smile.
"No, I don't think it is," she replied to his surprise.
Their eyes met for a brief moment, then Trálír cleared his throat and pointed towards the house.
"Before I leave you, I want to make sure that the sprain doesn't get worse. Do you have any arnica or comfrey ointment in your dwelling?"
"No. I've used up the last of the ointment for my father to ease his pain. I'll try not to put too much strain on my foot, you don't have to worry about me any more."
She looked at him hesitantly and her gaze then turned to his horse, which was next to the shed, waiting patiently for its master.
"Well then, so be it," said the High Elf, turning away and walking to his stallion. In one smooth movement, he slid onto the saddle and reached for the reins.
The young woman sat on the sloping stool and looked up at him, but her lips seemed sealed. Trálír read uncertainty in her fawn-brown eyes.
Before he could steer his stallion towards the west, however, he heard her say the following words, which brought a smile to his face.
Thank you for your help. I won't forget it.
*****
The next day began for Anwyn before the sun had even risen. Since her father had come home yesterday evening with two full baskets of fruit, her plan was to boil them down and preserve them for the winter. Then she would prepare a simple dish which she and her father would eat around midday before he went back out to sea. The fish he would bring back before noon would have to be gutted. Anwyn knew that all the work would be a strain on her sprained ankle, but she wanted to do as much work as possible for her father.
They had a small argument in the morning when her father had told her several times to lie down and rest but Anwyn didn't give it a second thought.
Father is old, he needs help and there is no one to help him, except for me, Anwyn thought.
When the old fisherman gave up in frustration after several heated exchanges, he left the house saying: "You're just as stubborn as your mother was."
And while Anwyn worked that morning, she thought wistfully of her mother, which died on a stormy day in the month of roses because she had fallen seriously ill.
She had a vivid image of her mother in her mind's eye as her father had shared all his memories with her before and short after her birth. Her own memories were blurred because she had been too small to remember her mother clearly.
After Anwyn had boiled all the fruit, her father had returned from the sea with a heavy basket full of fresh fish he had caught. When he saw Anwyn taking the basket from him with a heavy limp, he grimaced indignantly but his daughter ignored him and placed the meal on the table.
The old Fisher said goodbye with a nod after they had eaten their meal together in silence and walked down to the beach to board his boat. Anwyn stood in the doorway, looking after him, and only when he was out of sight she sat down on the chair which stood next to the door and grimaced in pain. She lifted her right leg and placed it on the crooked stool that had stood outside the house last night.
Although the wind was blowing strongly, it was no relief from the sun that shone down powerfully on Blackwater Bay. Before Anwyn stepped out into the bright light of day, she wiped the sweat from her brow with an old rag.
Limping heavily walked out into the small courtyard and heaved the heavy basket of fish onto the narrow table that stood to the right of the door.
"I thought you were resting?"
Anwyn flinched in shock and turned around. She was surprised to see the slender figure of the Elf. Trálír was his name, she remembered.
"What brings you here?" she asked in astonishment.
"Well, I wanted to make sure you were true to your word," was his reply. He raised a dark eyebrow and an amused smile appeared on his face. "But you seem to me to be an oathbreaker."
Anwyn glanced over his shoulder and saw that he had leashed the stallion at the stable door. He wore a dark blue tunic, tight-fitting black trousers and leather boots that reached his knees. His long black hair was tied back at the nape of his neck.
Anwyn was instantly ashamed of the poor image she presented. Her slender body was clad in a brown linen dress, she was barefoot and her hair was unkempt and wild like an abandoned bird's nest because the wind had been tugging at it for hours.
Then she noticed that the High Elf was holding the wicker basket she had left in the forest yesterday.
Trálír followed her gaze and explained: "You had forgotten your basket and I thought you could certainly still use it."
He took two steps towards her and handed Anwyn the basket.
She was surprised to see that it was filled with various mushrooms, two sealed jars and a bunch of freshly picked yellow primroses.
Anwyn raised her face and there was astonishment in her voice.
"Flowers?"
Trálír nodded. "Mushrooms, two jars of arnica and comfrey ointment and a bunch of flowers."
He raised his hand and pointed to the house. "And now you will go into the house, sit on a chair and let me treat your sprained ankle. I thought you wouldn't listen to my words."
"But I..." Anwyn began, but Trálír raised his hand while his eyes looked into the house. "Please sit down and let me help you."
As her ankle throbbed painfully, Anywyn gave in with a heavy heart and hobbled into the house. Ashamed because of being poor, she sat down on the chair and clasped her hands together, while the Elf followed her and knelt down in front of her.
He looked up at her questioningly. "Will you give me your permission?"
Anwyn nodded slowly and watched as Trálír's slender fingers places them on her swollen ankle. She flinched as she felt his touch and had to admit to herself that it wasn't the pain that had caused it.
Anwyn had never been touched by a stranger before and as Trálír pushed the fabric of her dress up a little to treat her ankle, various emotions flooded through her body and her throat tightened.
He reached for one of the two jars, opened it and with two fingers took some of the ointment which he carefully spread on her swollen ankle. The circular, gentle movements caused Anwyn's heart to beat up to her throat.
To distract herself from the rising emotions, she asked the Elf kneeling in front of her: "Why did you bring me flowers?"
"Well, yesterday was your birthday, wasn't it?" he replied, reaching into the wicker basket with his left hand and pulling out narrow strips of linen, which he carefully placed over his ankle to bind it.
"When I was looking for mushrooms, I noticed the primroses by the wayside. They reminded me of you and I thought you would enjoy the sight of them?"
Trálír took his hands off her now bandaged ankle and looked up at Anwyn, who was gazing down at him with wide eyes. "Does it please you?"
The girl nodded and a shy smile slid across her face.
"Thank you for your help," she said softly and indicated the wicker basket with her eyes.
"You can make a hearty soup with the mushrooms," Trálír said as he stood up. "And now tell me how else I can help you."
Anwyn frowned and tried to rise, but Trálír gently placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.
"Tell me what work you still have to do and I will do it for you." His voice was gentle but she could hear the will in it that he would not argue.
This whole situation is absurd, Anwyn thought, looking at Trálír speechlessly. He is a High Elf. No Elf in this land would want to lend a human a hand.
"Well?"
"The... the fish ...." Anwyn replied stuttering and Trálír looked at the basket standing outside in the sun. "I should hurry with the gutting, shouldn't I? Standing in the sun for so long wouldn't please any sea creature."
And with those words, he turned around, walked out into the sun and grabbed the knife that lay in the upper right corner.
Surprised, Anwyn watched as Trálír applied the knife to the first fish belly and cut it open up to the head. With a practiced movement, he removed the entrails and placed them in an old wooden bowl that was also on the table.
"Where is there fresh water?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder in Anwyn's direction.
"There's a small spring with drinking water about ten paces behind the house," she replied, looking aghast as she watched him reach for a bucket and disappear from her field of vision.
Prologue - Chapter I
Anwyn had always been lucky to avoid elfs until her 17th birthday, when she stumbled over a root in the forest in the morning while looking for fresh mushrooms and sprained her ankle.
She sat on the damp, mossy ground with tears in her eyes, her wicker basket lying on the head and the freshly collected mushrooms scattered around it. Even the slightest movement of her foot caused such intense pain that it took Anwyn's breath away. How was she going to get home? She asked herself, furtively wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
A clearing of the throat snapped the young girl out of her thoughts and she looked up, only to flinch back in shock the next moment.
She was staring at a large black horse with a High Elf sitting on its back. He looked young, but Anwyn knew that the beauty and flawlessness of youth meant nothing to someone like him. He could have been 17 years old like her ... or he could have spent two centuries in these woods.
"Can I help you?" His voice was dark as velvet. "Are you hurt?"
He let go of the reins, dismounted the horse and walked slightly towards Anwyn, who stared at him with wide eyes. A gentle smile appeared on his noble face as he became aware of her fear.
He raised his hands placatingly to show her that his request was sincere and that she need not fear him.
"My name is Trálír," he introduced himself. Anwyn still stared at the High Elf, though no longer fearfully. Suspicion still filled her gaze.
"Do you want to tell me your name?" he asked and the girl with the dark brown curls, the pale freckles on her nose and the full lips shook her head vehemently.
"Very well, so be it. Will you still allow me to look at your injury?"
Anwyn bit her lower lip for a moment and then nodded hesitantly. Trálír walked over to her, bent his knees and carefully placed his hands on her ankle. Instantly, the young woman winced in pain. While the High Elf carefully felt the rapidly swelling ankle, he noticed that her heart was beating fast and she tried to hide the fear inside her with a brave expression.
A gentle smile played around the Elf's shapely lips.
"You've sprained your ankle. With a little rest and an ointment of comfrey or arnica, the injury will soon subside," he said, looking at her attentively.
"But you seem to me to have a clever mind and know that yourself, don't you?"
Anwyn skillfully avoided his gaze and stared at her ankle. She noticed that her dark green woolen dress had ridden up to her knees and a delicate blush appeared on her cheeks.
"Are you far from home?"
"Not very," she replied in a low voice. "It's a little time away."
"Even if it were only a few steps away, it would only aggravate your injury."
With these words, he stood up, but immediately bent down again and pushed his arms under Anwyn's body to lift her up. Her breath caught in surprise and her body stiffened instantly.
"Which way should I go?" Trálír asked and waited for her answer.
"North. Between the two tall oaks and then straight ahead. As soon as you see the sea between the trees, turn right."
The Elf nodded and clicked his tongue, encouraging his black horse to trot along behind them.
He estimated the young woman to be about 16 or 17 years old, almost a toddler in contrast to him, who was in his 76th year. With every step he took, she relaxed a little more in his arms. Her head leaned between his shoulder and cheek and her brown curly hair gently touched his skin.
When the High Elf had left the two tall oaks behind him, he could see the storm-tossed sea. There were only a few days a year when the sea lay calmly before them, most of the time the waves broke violently against the steep cliffs. Trálír felt the forest floor recede as the Blackwater Bay took up more and more space. His boots sank a little in the soft sand, but his steps were steady and sure. Trálír turned to the east and saw a small wooden house about 30 paces away. He felt the young woman unconsciously stiffen in his arms.
"You can drop me off here," were her words to him but Trálír shook his head. "If I were to drop you off now, it would be too much of a strain on your injury. Let me carry you to your house."
Apart from the breaking waves on the beach, nothing could be heard. There was a stable next to the small house and he thought he recognized a run behind it. He heard the bleating of two goats as he approached with the girl in his arms. Next to the house was a wooden rack on which a dozen squid were drying.
So she was a fisherwoman, Trálír realized. A dangerous occupation for a human, for the sea was no friend to the inhabitants of Blackwater. Catching fish, diving for pearls or even just searching for shells was always associated with a certain amount of danger, as there were creatures in the opaque water that could tear a person in half with just one bite. And that was the most merciful way to die.
Next to the door of the house was a small wooden stool on which he carefully set the girl down.
"Thank you very much," she said shyly and looked to the side in embarrassment. Trálír suspected that she was deeply ashamed of her obvious poverty.
She was human and she knew what the High Elves thought of them.
In contrast to him, dressed in the finest fabrics, she wore a poor garment made of rough wool. Even her leather shoes had seen better days.
"You are a fisherwoman?" Trálír asked, pointing at the squid. The young girl raised her eyes and replied: "My father is a fisherman, I help him."
"Then your father is at sea right now?"
She shook her head. "No, he's in the village to look after my…" She broke off uncertainly.
"Your...?" Trálír raised an eyebrow with interest but she remained silent and avoided his gaze.
"Is it your birthday? Is he in the village to buy something for you?" he asked.
The girl blushed slightly.
"I don't think a sprained ankle is an appropriate gift for you," he said with a slight smile.
"No, I don't think it is," she replied to his surprise.
Their eyes met for a brief moment, then Trálír cleared his throat and pointed towards the house.
"Before I leave you, I want to make sure that the sprain doesn't get worse. Do you have any arnica or comfrey ointment in your dwelling?"
"No. I've used up the last of the ointment for my father to ease his pain. I'll try not to put too much strain on my foot, you don't have to worry about me any more."
She looked at him hesitantly and her gaze then turned to his horse, which was next to the shed, waiting patiently for its master.
"Well then, so be it," said the High Elf, turning away and walking to his stallion. In one smooth movement, he slid onto the saddle and reached for the reins.
The young woman sat on the sloping stool and looked up at him, but her lips seemed sealed. Trálír read uncertainty in her fawn-brown eyes.
Before he could steer his stallion towards the west, however, he heard her say the following words, which brought a smile to his face.
Thank you for your help. I won't forget it.
The next day began for Anwyn before the sun had even risen. Since her father had come home yesterday evening with two full baskets of fruit, her plan was to boil them down and preserve them for the winter. Then she would prepare a simple dish which she and her father would eat around midday before he went back out to sea. The fish he would bring back before noon would have to be gutted. Anwyn knew that all the work would be a strain on her sprained ankle, but she wanted to do as much work as possible for her father.
They had a small argument in the morning when her father had told her several times to lie down and rest but Anwyn didn't give it a second thought.
Father is old, he needs help and there is no one to help him, except for me, Anwyn thought.
When the old fisherman gave up in frustration after several heated exchanges, he left the house saying: "You're just as stubborn as your mother was."
And while Anwyn worked that morning, she thought wistfully of her mother, which died on a stormy day in the month of roses because she had fallen seriously ill.
She had a vivid image of her mother in her mind's eye as her father had shared all his memories with her before and short after her birth. Her own memories were blurred because she had been too small to remember her mother clearly.
After Anwyn had boiled all the fruit, her father had returned from the sea with a heavy basket full of fresh fish he had caught. When he saw Anwyn taking the basket from him with a heavy limp, he grimaced indignantly but his daughter ignored him and placed the meal on the table.
The old Fisher said goodbye with a nod after they had eaten their meal together in silence and walked down to the beach to board his boat. Anwyn stood in the doorway, looking after him, and only when he was out of sight she sat down on the chair which stood next to the door and grimaced in pain. She lifted her right leg and placed it on the crooked stool that had stood outside the house last night.
Although the wind was blowing strongly, it was no relief from the sun that shone down powerfully on Blackwater Bay. Before Anwyn stepped out into the bright light of day, she wiped the sweat from her brow with an old rag.
Limping heavily walked out into the small courtyard and heaved the heavy basket of fish onto the narrow table that stood to the right of the door.
"I thought you were resting?"
Anwyn flinched in shock and turned around. She was surprised to see the slender figure of the Elf. Trálír was his name, she remembered.
"What brings you here?" she asked in astonishment.
"Well, I wanted to make sure you were true to your word," was his reply. He raised a dark eyebrow and an amused smile appeared on his face. "But you seem to me to be an oathbreaker."
Anwyn glanced over his shoulder and saw that he had leashed the stallion at the stable door. He wore a dark blue tunic, tight-fitting black trousers and leather boots that reached his knees. His long black hair was tied back at the nape of his neck.
Anwyn was instantly ashamed of the poor image she presented. Her slender body was clad in a brown linen dress, she was barefoot and her hair was unkempt and wild like an abandoned bird's nest because the wind had been tugging at it for hours.
Then she noticed that the High Elf was holding the wicker basket she had left in the forest yesterday.
Trálír followed her gaze and explained: "You had forgotten your basket and I thought you could certainly still use it."
He took two steps towards her and handed Anwyn the basket.
She was surprised to see that it was filled with various mushrooms, two sealed jars and a bunch of freshly picked yellow primroses.
Anwyn raised her face and there was astonishment in her voice.
"Flowers?"
Trálír nodded. "Mushrooms, two jars of arnica and comfrey ointment and a bunch of flowers."
He raised his hand and pointed to the house. "And now you will go into the house, sit on a chair and let me treat your sprained ankle. I thought you wouldn't listen to my words."
"But I..." Anwyn began, but Trálír raised his hand while his eyes looked into the house. "Please sit down and let me help you."
As her ankle throbbed painfully, Anywyn gave in with a heavy heart and hobbled into the house. Ashamed because of being poor, she sat down on the chair and clasped her hands together, while the Elf followed her and knelt down in front of her.
He looked up at her questioningly. "Will you give me your permission?"
Anwyn nodded slowly and watched as Trálír's slender fingers places them on her swollen ankle. She flinched as she felt his touch and had to admit to herself that it wasn't the pain that had caused it.
Anwyn had never been touched by a stranger before and as Trálír pushed the fabric of her dress up a little to treat her ankle, various emotions flooded through her body and her throat tightened.
He reached for one of the two jars, opened it and with two fingers took some of the ointment which he carefully spread on her swollen ankle. The circular, gentle movements caused Anwyn's heart to beat up to her throat.
To distract herself from the rising emotions, she asked the Elf kneeling in front of her: "Why did you bring me flowers?"
"Well, yesterday was your birthday, wasn't it?" he replied, reaching into the wicker basket with his left hand and pulling out narrow strips of linen, which he carefully placed over his ankle to bind it.
"When I was looking for mushrooms, I noticed the primroses by the wayside. They reminded me of you and I thought you would enjoy the sight of them?"
Trálír took his hands off her now bandaged ankle and looked up at Anwyn, who was gazing down at him with wide eyes. "Does it please you?"
The girl nodded and a shy smile slid across her face.
"Thank you for your help," she said softly and indicated the wicker basket with her eyes.
"You can make a hearty soup with the mushrooms," Trálír said as he stood up. "And now tell me how else I can help you."
Anwyn frowned and tried to rise, but Trálír gently placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.
"Tell me what work you still have to do and I will do it for you." His voice was gentle but she could hear the will in it that he would not argue.
This whole situation is absurd, Anwyn thought, looking at Trálír speechlessly. He is a High Elf. No Elf in this land would want to lend a human a hand.
"Well?"
"The... the fish ...." Anwyn replied stuttering and Trálír looked at the basket standing outside in the sun. "I should hurry with the gutting, shouldn't I? Standing in the sun for so long wouldn't please any sea creature."
And with those words, he turned around, walked out into the sun and grabbed the knife that lay in the upper right corner.
Surprised, Anwyn watched as Trálír applied the knife to the first fish belly and cut it open up to the head. With a practiced movement, he removed the entrails and placed them in an old wooden bowl that was also on the table.
"Where is there fresh water?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder in Anwyn's direction.
"There's a small spring with drinking water about ten paces behind the house," she replied, looking aghast as she watched him reach for a bucket and disappear from her field of vision.
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Thank you so much for reading :) ♥️
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This section is a bit slower paced than the first section, but that's okay since we are seeing the beginnings of their romance and how it comes about.
All in all, a nice addition. I'm looking forward to more!
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Trálír is very different from all the other Elfs around him and I like the idea. I like that he is the gentle, loving side which were a part of the Highelfs in the past but that changed now. I think, Anwyn will lose her shame and mistrust because his intentions are absolut honest. There is no evil in him.
I never thought I would give the romance so much time but it is clear to me that those souls found each other. (Never talking about myself and me being a romantic at heart)
I hope Jutta is going to beta-read the next part today so I can share it tomorrow :)
♥️♥️♥️
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I confess, though, I would prefer Anwyn to find reasons to find confidence and self-worth at least partially on her own merits rather than blossoming only because Tralir loves her. She clearly has plenty of courage and strength of her own. This is not meant as a criticism but perhaps food for thought to making her a stronger heroine in her own right.
I have never met a writer yet who wasn't a romantic in some way.
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Anwyn is a strong woman but I haven't had the chance to show it yet. But there are some surprises about her nature and I hope that I have been able to show them and express them correctly with my words (in my next chapters).
She's not a damsel in distress.
I wrote yesterday a little bit more and and I am surprised HOW romantic I am even when I didn't have a lot of experience in those things.
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♥️♥️♥️
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♥️♥️♥️
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Es gibt sogar schon zwei weitere Kapitel wenn du Lust und Zeit hast :)
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Das habe ich schon gesehen, hatte gestern allerdings nicht genug Konzentration, um alles zu lesen :( ich werde das aber auf jeden Fall noch machen :)
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Das sollte keine Aufforderung sein es sofort zu lesen. Eher ein "hey, wenn du Lust hast brauchst du nicht warten sondern kannst gleich weiterlesen". ;D
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