Post by Moira on Oct 3, 2013 0:16:35 GMT -5
The Sheep Herder's Wife
In her younger days, Moira Revie had yearned for adventure and even joined the town’s small militia for a few years. That was where she’d met Greig. Only after their first real encounter clearing a pocket of banditry from the forest did Greig begin to have second thoughts of this adventure. When his father died a few months later from the blood cough, leaving him the farm, he asked her to marry him. She loved him and she did.
She loved her husband, her three children, and their small farm. Greig was now a sheepherder and she knitted and sewed with the yarn that he spun from them. Their eldest son of eleven, Cormac, often helped his father while his two younger sisters, Aileas and Fenella did chores about the farm with their mother. Apart from a few dozen sheep, the farm was also home to a few chickens, ducks, goats, a horse, and their third hand, a sheepdog named Bruc.
While her husband was in town with their youngest, Moira had ridden up to the upper field to watch the flock with Bruc. Cormac was ill so she had taken up the daily chore for the past few days. Setting out the horse to graze while Bruc patrolled the perimeter of the nearby forest, Moira settled down to her knitting. She sang an old tune as she knit and the clouds floated merrily overhead to pass the time.
She and Bruc were driving the last of the sheep into the barn at twilight when she saw a tall figure leave the house. “Greig,” she called. “How did ya do in town? Were ya able to get the shears fixed?” Bruc growled and barked as the man plodded towards them and another shambled out from her home. “Who are ya!” she shouted. “Leave now oer my husband will put an arrow through yer hide!”
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She rode a bay gelding and the long woolen coat the woman wore might once have been quite nice. Now it, as well as the horse, was stained with splatters of brownish gore. The same covered the cudgel hanging loosely at her side. The woman was thirtyish and not unattractive if it weren’t for the vacant look she turned upon them and asked in a hollow voice, “Do ya travel ta Eliador?”
Moira stands 5’8” with black hair pulled back in a short tail. She wears a long dark gray woolen coat with two rows of buttons up the front.
In her younger days, Moira Revie had yearned for adventure and even joined the town’s small militia for a few years. That was where she’d met Greig. Only after their first real encounter clearing a pocket of banditry from the forest did Greig begin to have second thoughts of this adventure. When his father died a few months later from the blood cough, leaving him the farm, he asked her to marry him. She loved him and she did.
She loved her husband, her three children, and their small farm. Greig was now a sheepherder and she knitted and sewed with the yarn that he spun from them. Their eldest son of eleven, Cormac, often helped his father while his two younger sisters, Aileas and Fenella did chores about the farm with their mother. Apart from a few dozen sheep, the farm was also home to a few chickens, ducks, goats, a horse, and their third hand, a sheepdog named Bruc.
While her husband was in town with their youngest, Moira had ridden up to the upper field to watch the flock with Bruc. Cormac was ill so she had taken up the daily chore for the past few days. Setting out the horse to graze while Bruc patrolled the perimeter of the nearby forest, Moira settled down to her knitting. She sang an old tune as she knit and the clouds floated merrily overhead to pass the time.
She and Bruc were driving the last of the sheep into the barn at twilight when she saw a tall figure leave the house. “Greig,” she called. “How did ya do in town? Were ya able to get the shears fixed?” Bruc growled and barked as the man plodded towards them and another shambled out from her home. “Who are ya!” she shouted. “Leave now oer my husband will put an arrow through yer hide!”
-----------------------
She rode a bay gelding and the long woolen coat the woman wore might once have been quite nice. Now it, as well as the horse, was stained with splatters of brownish gore. The same covered the cudgel hanging loosely at her side. The woman was thirtyish and not unattractive if it weren’t for the vacant look she turned upon them and asked in a hollow voice, “Do ya travel ta Eliador?”
Moira stands 5’8” with black hair pulled back in a short tail. She wears a long dark gray woolen coat with two rows of buttons up the front.