Searching for Girard's gate Durkon began reminiscing on the past, specifically a night a year before meeting with Roy and starting the order of the stick…
He had just been exiled from the dwarven lands and was travelling the mountains aimlessly when he saw a young woman fighting ten goblins, he ran to her aid with all the speed his short legs could muster.
Together they easily bested them. They exchanged greetings, "I'm Durkon Thundershield cleric of the god Thor," Durkon said. "It is good to meet you Durkon Thundershield I am Miko Miyazaki, samurai of th-"
A loud rumble in the distance cut her words short. The battle had started a huge avalanche that was surging down the mountain.
"Run", Durkon said, they barely made it to an adjacent cave when the snow hit them.
The cave had a small fire and some crude, sleeping pallets, Durkon thought it may have been the goblins den.
"This will have to do until help reaches us. Hopefully that will not take too long"
"Och tha may take weeks, 'f ever. t’mrow’ll start digging us out. I’m too tired now."
"Very well I will assist you in the morning,"
So they set about getting a meal prepared and devouring it, after that just sat staring into the fire, lost in their own.
Miko suddenly spoke up," You where very heroic coming to my rescue, and also very dashing."
"Wha, I'm sorry but I'm nah attracted to humans in tha way."
Miko began to try to explain herself, tripping over words in her haste, cursing her low charisma at the same time. Durkon swiftly calmed her and they went to there separate pallets. There was silence in the cave until Durkon broke," Wha I jus' said may nah have been true."
"I'm sorry what did you say?"
Durkon answered her with a kiss.
The next day they set about cleaning away the snow, and that night they whispered sweet nothings into each other’s ear.
The days passed like this, for eight days. The eight happiest days of both their lives and as they walked away from each other for what they believed to be the last time Miko wiped a single tear from her cheek.
Durkon shuck himself out of his reminiscing, muttering to himself how there was no sense wallowing in the past.