Sweven

Dreams from the 7th Drifters
Snow swift. Cars drift. Shelter in some random roadside lot. Majestic snow ploughed mountains call. Step up the steeper side... then slide. Other sanctuary seekers follow suit. We slide away the frigid day.

The Blessing
Secret spaces. Eager faces. Voices, hopeful, hushed. Spirits are alight while we plot out the night. Past Overhill we will quest for a blessing.

Nothing recalled this morning of the 8th.