The longest of winters solstice was the eve of his arrival, or so the whispers tell it.
Dark, tall, impossibly lean with hands as deaths own grip.
Never a spoken word, yet ever-present

During a time of dry harvest that the stranger first approached the township, arms outstretched, waiting, though the people knew not what for.
It was Hamish, a strong warrior, whom took rise to follow the wanderer out into the cool nights mist with the offering of skills, of youth, of self.

The very next day, the last of fall, fields and tree alike were ripe and plentiful with produce.
Time passed and 2 years to the minute was when Hamish returned to the township. Unchanged. No memory of ever being gone.



Winters are harsh, and summers all to short in old country.. in order to survive some sacrifices must be made.

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Thanks for buying~! :D

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Inked with 0.2, 0.3, 0.5, 0.8 and brushnib feltips.
Coloured with assorted brands of markers, pencil and white gelpen.

Hamish & Spindle Shanks © Miss K (of DeviantART)

ARTwork by Erika V, April 2015