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Smile and drop the cliché
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[html]  | |  | The morning air was crisp, more so than the young woman would have liked. The sun had only barely risen over the horizon and already it was masked with clouds, clouds that threatened to continue to spill the flurry of snow that seemed to have taken over the lands recently. The layer of snow that had already covered the ground crunched beneath her feet as she walked, dragging chilled fingers across the trunk of a tree as she passed it by. Bright blue eyes scanned the ground as she went, taking careful steps and yet going in no real direction at all. She was on a mission of sorts, but not a mission that would lead her anywhere specific, but rather to something specific.
It was as the young chocolate colored woman passed a row of trees that she saw it, resting there on the ground. Rachias shrugged her shoulder once, forcing the thick denim backpack to fall to the crevice of her elbow. She held it there until she reached the object, a log that had been unfortunate enough to have fallen at some point. Upon reaching the log Rachias immediately dropped to her knees in front of it, dropping the backpack to the ground to rummage through it. After a moment she withdrew her hand, holding a small dull hatchet, and began to work at chopping away bits of the wood. It would take some time to get a few good sized pieces, which would have to dry after she returned to the house, if she wanted to keep herself and Arkham warm through the night.
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