Frost bitten needles litter the hard ground surrounding white washed rock gardens. To the east, a dawning sun bathes the hills in purple, peering through the veil of smoke from nearby fires. All is silent, but for the shuffle of cold feet across weathered floorboards. The clink of manacles echoing off the barren walls of aged wallpaper.
Her heart thawed in the morning's timid rays; stretching it's muscle against its rib cage prison. Three years of winter had wandered past her ancient glass windows and still the burden of his loss weighed down on her. Each day began with the sickening reminder he was gone and each ended with a glimpse into a future without him.
With the waning sun a brightness of potential. Rather than abandon her he had set her free. And though she felt locked away in a tower, the house itself quiet and undisturbed, she soon realized that the keys to her bondage rest softly in her hand.
Photo Credit: Kyle Woolhiser, elk hunt 2015
