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Myrika is by me!
The cottage had served as the only home Myrika had ever known. Her earliest memories were of this place. As most did, she looked back upon the past with golden fondness, forgetting whatever hardships they had endured at the time. As she stepped through the doorframe, the innards seemed almost gloomy. Though their things, still quite filling the room, were warm comforts, the cottage itself seemed small and dreary to Myrika, who even then needed to stoop a bit to avoid hitting her head on the bared wooden beams.
Her sister turned, seemingly come to the same conclusion Myrika had outside. She deliberately interpreted the question in as literal a manner as possible and surveyed the room, her turquoise eyes eventually returning to her sister. She shook her head slowly, mahogany curls moving with the motion. I think that's it, she said, lifting her shoulders in a rather helpless shrug. The tawny coyote offered what she hoped was a smile of reassurance toward her pale sister, though she was uncertain how it fit her face.
She wished she could bring more books, but as it was, she'd settled for just one. They were valuable and one of her favorite possessions, but they were also heavy and did not fare well on hard trails. She moved to one end of the little room, looking over the assortment of them stacked haphazardly along the rickety shelf. I think it might be good, she began, throwing a glance back toward Cassie before returning it to the books, to get out of here a while. This was nothing new she said, but in the high tensions before their departure, the comment might come across differently. The mahogany-haired coyote offered it in the hopes it might provide strength, but good intent did not always end with good results.
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