XXV

Alexander

By the time we have returned to Castle Black, the autumn winds were in full swing.

September had always been a temperamental month. Moving so quickly from summer to fall in the blink of an eye.

The warmth of the sun was quickly disappearing, replaced with gusts that brought the leaves swirling from the skies, and littering the floor, blanketing them in a patchwork of colours.

As we neared the turreted castle, the feeling of foreboding was beginning to settle in.

We had only been gone for a matter of a week. Yet, the general feeling surrounding our home, was somehow darker than when we left.

The fields, whilst usually busy, were empty, devoid of workers, of women trying to exhaust their feral children. There were no wolves hunting in the surrounding woodlands, looking for food to feed their family. It was quiet. Far too quiet.

As we approached the Castle, I was able to reach out to my second in command to find out what was happening.

“Arthur?” I enquired, “Arthur what