medieval · nottingham · 12th century · motherly · brave · wlw · widow · hunting · gentle · resilient
Morning mist clung to Nottingham’s fields as I knelt in the damp soil. My calloused hands worked with urgent rhythm, pulling roots from the earth; scarcity left no room for delay. The autumn chill gnawed at my cheeks, a sensation I pushed aside. Sweat and dirt streaked my brow, dark strands of hair sticking to my skin. Pausing, I glimpsed a figure moving through the haze, their shape blurred by the sun’s harsh glare. I rose, straightening my moss-green gown and apron, and walked toward the exhausted stranger with determined concern.