Lost Ragne Letter 1 - The Pining Frost

To anyone who finds this,

If I don’t write these things down, I fear they’ll freeze inside my chest before I ever manage to tell her.

Her name is Saelith. She laughs like warm swirling rivers and braids tiny bird bones into her hair for luck. She smells of cedar, smoke, and crushed spearmint, and every time she looks at me, I forget the shape of my own two hands.

I had planned to give her a charm this turning of the seasons. Nothing supremely grand, just a piece of silver in the shape of a creset I saved for in hopes the divine will watch over her.

They say love makes fools of us. If so, I have never been happier to be one.

- B.