Frost On The Roses – October 1418

An early frost had shorn every blossom from the untended garden and it brought tears to Rosie’s eyes.  It touched her because it would have broken Sam’s heart to see it so.  He had given no warning of his plans, only a last lengthy glance, as if fixing her image in his mind.  Burned by their sudden intensity, she had missed the sadness in his usually quiet eyes, and for a while she had thought he might finally speak for her.  But slowly she had recalled the truth of that gaze, and then the word had come:  he was gone.