One night of swift wind and torrential rain.
Under the moonlight on the windowsill, Crow Queen Triss admired the wind and rain for half the night, with a misty red glow. Her stunningly beautiful face showed a hint of satisfaction and lazy expression after witnessing the majestic beauty of nature.
She got up and pushed the door open, and when she looked back again, the wind and rain outside the window had gradually calmed, but there was still an impending threat of a storm returning.
A night without words.
In the faint glow of dawn, Duncan turned over and got up, casually draping a soft sheepskin over the person beside him who lay like a puddle of mud.
He opened the window to scatter the smell of the night, the oily wax candle burned for half the night, the room was filled with a strong scent, like sheepish musk, a well-laid sheepskin bed giving off murmurs and whispers, as if displeased by the direct sunlight, it rolled over and curled up like a worm in the corner.