Letti stood, breathing hard on the green behind Garthien’s tower. In the days since their arrival, Letti had slowly begun to explore Garthien’s gardens, preferring to remain outside rather than in his obelisk. The interior of the tower was quiet, too quiet, as if the sounds of the world were somehow shut out of its interior. It felt, Letti had finally settled on an appropriate simile, somewhat like a tomb.
“Watch your upswing.” Thorn squatted a few lengths away, watching Letti swing a sword that Garthien had lent them. “You are bringing your blade down too near to your body. If you did so in a battle, it would be too easy to counter and twist your weapon away from you.” His voice was not critical, but Letti ground her teeth.
She had grown impatient in the three days since she’d learned Thorn’s truth. She was tired of being in pain, tired of relearning a skill that had taken so long to learn with an appendage she knew how to use.
In the mornings, Letti took care to dress herself methodically, wrapping her chest meticulously. She was still struggling with her boot laces. Letti was tired of asking for help.
“You are making progress.” Thorn complimented Letti.
She flopped down on the perfectly manicured grass and snorted. “I now boast two useless appendages and little skill to transfer.”
“You’ve been in a battle.” Thorn reminded her. “That is more than most soldiers can say.”
“For now.” Letti said darkly.
Thorn did not reply. Both knew a conversation was immanent. Neither had broached difficult topics since Letti’s flight, and both understood the necessity of direction.
Letti felt beleaguered. She did not realize how much an intact body lent stability to her identity. With the absence of her right hand, Letti felt as though she had lost both memory and potential. She had spoken little since she’d woken.
“I’m going to visit the horses.” Letti informed Thorn.
Thorn nodded. “Garthien would like to speak with us today.”
Letti scowled. “I will be up shortly.”
Thorn inclined his head and watched Letti push herself up from the ground, stumbling slightly as she regained her balance. Though he had lost both limbs and appendages throughout his life, she was right. They had grown back. Thorn had not had to contend with such a devastating loss. He tried to crush the growing guilt in his gut. It was not his fault she had lost her hand.
Letti allowed her left hand to find the hilt of her sword and held it as she walked. It afforded her a little control, and it kept the sheath from hitting her legs, an annoyance, she knew, that would trigger a small fit of rage. She had been throwing her belongings around her room for three days. Letti hoped Thorn and Garthien could not hear the bruit. As wrathful as she felt towards them, she did not want them to think she was losing control.
Letti tugged on one of the two doors that opened into the bottom floor of Garthien’s tower. The tower, Letti had learned, was comprised of nine floors, including an underground armory, ground level stables, and a library. Letti had studiously avoided the dining room and kitchen, each their own floor, preferring to spend time in her room or with the horses. She had not returned to Garthien’s chambers at the top of the tower since she had first met him. In fact, Letti had not seen Garthien since that day either; her visit that afternoon would be the first time she’d interacted with him since she’d run her feet raw. She was unsure how she felt about the man.
He had seemed rather cold, resigned to the fate and the turning of the world, but curiously invested in Thorn’s revelation. She knew he would be a font of information, should he choose to divulge, but Letti had seen enough of Thorn’s diversionary tactics to suspect she would receive little of use from the trapped man.
“Hello there.” Letti stroked the neck of her horse. Ean’s large eye rolled down to look at her. Letti leaned into her horse and closed her eyes.
The first visit Letti had paid to the horses, she had cried bitterly at their rubs, their bruises, her hand, Thorn’s secrets. The horses had been skittish, traumatized by their forced march. As Letti had remained in the stables, they had warmed to her once more. Ean seemed to understand Letti needed comfort. He had allowed her to touch him, treat his wounds. They found solace in each other’s pain. She was not sure Ean understood why they had ripped across the desert and the plains, but she was fairly certain her hurt had translated. She found Ean, Enri, and Bert much more amiable companions than Thorn or Garthien or any of his servants.
Letti checked the rubs along Ean’s belly where his girth had sat for a week straight. She checked his ears and his teeth where his bridle had offered him no reprieve. “I’m sorry.” She whispered for the hundredth time. “I’m sorry.”
Letti wondered once again why Thorn had not healed any of them with majik and resolved to ask him.
Dismally, Letti finally parted with the horses, traipsing down to the armory to replace her sword. This was the only the space in Garthien’s abode that was not circular in its perimeter. It stretched under the tower, and indeed, Letti noted, under his gardens. Along the walls hung swords of all varieties, bows and arrows that looked as if they had seen better days, shields, armor, braces and greeves, daggers, and all manner of battle paraphernalia. Letti did not linger. Every time she visited the dark space, she wondered why Garthien had amassed such a litter of weaponry.
Letti turned quickly, beginning her trek up the long spiral staircase. She passed the stables, the kitchen, the dining room, the library, and the additional rooms. I wonder if he has many guests, Letti thought acidly. Finally, she arrived at Garthien’s door. She knocked lightly and was bidden to enter.
Feeling the odd turn of the knob under her left hand, Letti pushed the door inwards to find Thorn seated across the room. Garthien stood at the balcony. Clouds had stolen across the sky, threatening rain. The room darkened slightly, and Garthien turned, walking around to the torches that hung along the walls, whispering to them. Letti watched them light and felt the room warm too fast for the reason to be natural.
“I am glad to see you have been recovering.” Garthien turned to Letti. “Please, sit.”
Letti sank into a chair facing Thorn.
“I wanted to speak to you about the prophecy.” Garthien said.
Thorn shifted slightly.
“You will be heading to Durevin whenever Thorn finds you suitable to travel. I would school you on some applicable history before you depart. Thorn is perfectly capable of doing so, but he has been half feral for some time now and forgets how to explain politics to those who were not involved.”
Thorn growled.
“You are obviously welcome to investigate whatever you like in my library, though it is a poor trove comparatively.” Garthien ignored Thorn. “I would tell you specific pieces of this history that you might draw your own conclusions.”
Letti nodded. “Will this help us find Candor’s mothers?”
Garthien shrugged slightly. “I hope so. I do not know.”
Thorn leaned forward. “I would like you to make decisions with me, going forward.” He said. “For this, you must be educated on some of the more relevant history of Durevin in particular.”
“Alright.” Letti agreed. “Go on.”
“Much of our turnings, I think, revolve around the fall of the mad king.” Garthien began. “The prophecy is incredibly important to understand. Thorn said he told you that the mad king sought a personal prophecy and mistakenly took a general prophecy as his own. No one I am aware of knows the true prophecy. As far as I can tell, he understood it to be a threat to his reign. As such, he took the security of his position and the peace of the land very seriously. He called a conclave of his witches. I’m not sure how many were in court at that time, I know he had at least one pair, and asked what to do. I do not know the conversation, but I assume they told him that majik was the way forward. This was about when he sent out a call for the all the witches.” Garthien twirled the sleeve of his robe.
“Now, what is fairly unknown to modern history, as scholarship deteriorated with the economy, is that there were other families, Durevinian aristocracy, vying for the crown. How much this informed the decision making of an already unstable ruler, I cannot know. But what I can predict now, is that there are members of the oligarchy who are mobilizing. Someone, and I cannot say who, is moving pieces around the board. If I had to guess, someone is trying to consolidate power.”
“Thorn hazarded as much when we were in Ome Chaer.” Letti informed Garthien. “Why is this important for Mo and Lola?”
Thorn and Garthien exchanged a look that told Letti she was not going to get their full suspicions.
“I think,” Thorn began, “Having never asked Candor or you, that Mo and Lola’s name are Molarné and Lolara, extremely old. I would not have expected them to escape the blooding of the fall, but if they did,” Thorn considered Letti gravely, “They would have incredible insight as to the mad king’s decisions, his fall, secrets he might have hidden away.”
Letti still did not understand how this impacted the movement of human demagogues. “Why should this matter?” She asked. “It is not as if the mad king could return to life.”
Garthien nodded. “Quite so.” Rain began to pepper the balcony, and Garthien turned to draw glass panes across the opening. “But there is some theory that the mad king had his witches curse the crown so that no one but a member of his house could ever take it.”
Letti blanched. “That might explain the centuries of anarchy.”
“Or it could be that a power vacuum is not conducive to peaceful assumptions of kingship.” Thorn grunted.
“Or that.” Garthien acknowledged. “Regardless, if someone found this to be true and wanted to destroy the E’Alturam to take power, it would behoove them to follow any possible trails that would allow them to elide such a curse.”
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to kill the E’Alturam?” Letti asked. “That’s the house of the mad king?”
“Yes. They were much diminished after his fall, for obvious reasons,” Garthien explained. “But that is not how curses work.”
“Enlighten me.” Letti groused.
“There are complicated rules that govern applied majik.” Thorn explained. “Depending on how it was conceived and delivered, the curse can only be broken by him who cast it, or by a countercurse of some sort.” Thorn made a face. “Curses are notoriously difficult to perform and are dangerous as they require specific pieces of majik to undo. Majik is tied to time, as we’ve discussed, it works well to bind material moving forward. It is challenging to reverse.”
“There’s no countercurse?” Letti asked.
“There might very well be.” Garthien said. “We don’t know. We don’t even know if there is a curse. And it is in the interest of E’Alturam to perpetuate such a myth, if it is a myth. That ploy, to your point, keeps them alive.”
Letti nodded.
“A sane E’Alturam could rule, but there’s been few enough of those over the last few centuries, as far as I’ve heard. In fact, the last descendant went missing a while ago.” Garthien commented thoughtfully. “Not that many of the other houses are any better. They are fanatical about blood lines, which has resulted in unfortunate pairings.”
Letti shivered. “Clearly someone with bigger ambitions has stepped into the picture.”
“Indeed.” Garthien nodded. “If I had to guess, I think Candor’s mothers are in Durevin.”
“Either being used to assess the truth of the curse or being used to try to lift it.” Letti surmised. “That would mean that Emarza is serving a Durevinian lord.”
Thorn nodded slowly. “Which seems out of character. He is always self serving. He would not work with someone unless there is a clear benefit for him.”
“That was the Emarza we knew.” Garthien corrected Thorn gently. “He may have changed in the last few centuries.”
Thorn merely grunted.
“So, what now?” Letti asked. “We travel north and try to insert ourselves into a centuries old political game? Seems unwise.”
“We need make no decisions now.” Thorn advised. “We simply wanted you to know where our suspicions lie.”
Letti thought for a moment. “There is something you are not divulging about Mo and Lola.” She finally said.
Both Thorn and Garthien stilled. “We knew them, or knew of them.” Garthien said shortly. “I simply did not expect them to survive the fall.”
“You said that already.” Letti pounced. “Why would they have survived?”
Thorn looked uncomfortable. “They would have had to know someone.”
Letti bit back a second question, unsure why she was leaving off her inquiries. Something felt strange here, some dark hole in an otherwise hazy puzzle. She decided she would try to search for her own answers for a while, peruse the library when she had a chance.
“Why haven’t you used majik to heal the horses?” Letti asked, pivoting the conversation with such alacrity that Thorn blinked.
“I wanted them to grow calloused where their tack sits.” Thorn explained. “Healing them would offer them no scar tissue.”
“In case we must ride like that again?” Letti’s voice was sharp. “We rode down the whole western coast and you did not consider such actions necessary.”
“We better cared for them then.” Thorn replied. “I cannot predict our future rides, but I can say for certain this would be a better use of energy than trying to heal them every time we had to ride for our lives.”
Letti did not agree, but she held her tongue.
“Why can’t you use majik to heal me?” She finally asked softly.
Thorn and Garthien glanced at each other.
“I can.” Thorn made to stand. “I would not do so without your permission.”
“That did not stop you in the black teeth.” Letti reminded Thorn. “You and Candor saved my life.”
“You would have died.” Thorn explained simply.
“Would I not have died this time?” Letti was having a hard time understanding.
Thorn nodded. “There was little time to heal you properly before we fled. I used what methods I could to keep you alive. But by the time we had moved far enough for me to treat you, I was trying desperately to evict a poison from your system.”
“And?” Letti sat back. “You couldn’t make the pain disappear?”
“I sucked the poison from your stump.” Thorn said dully. “Which meant I had to continue to reopen it. Closing it simply to reopen it would have wrought more havoc on your person than I thought necessary.”
“Oh.” Letti said, voice small. “Is the poison out now?”
“Yes.” Thorn answered.
“Then for the love of the twins can you heal me?” Letti asked desperately. She was utterly spent, tired of knocking her stump on things and feeling the pain ricochet up her arm.
“I can.” Thorn walked over and knelt by Letti. Slowly, he unwrapped her arm. The end was still raw, angry, though the skin folded over the bone.
“It will feel odd.”
“I remember.” Letti braced herself.
Garthien looked on, his face curiously textured from the light through the rain spattered glass.
Thorn took Letti’s arm in his hand and closed his eyes. He began to murmer, the words throwing images into Letti’s mind, fixtures of blood and flesh and bone. She gasped as her body began to crawl along itself, skin moving into new places, tendons retracting into the body, curling into knotted ends. She felt tears slide down her cheeks, as she understood Thorn was adding pieces to the spell that kept her from feeling the pain of moving broken body parts around.
When he finished, Thorn leaned forward slightly, as if catching his breath. Quickly, before she thought better of it, Letti pressed a slight kiss to his forehead in thanks.
Thorn looked up, surprised and gratified.
“Thanks.” Letti murmered.
Garthien smiled and turned away. The clouds had begun to move along the plains; he could see sun in the distance.
~.~
Letti sat down at the dining room table and picked up a fork. She grinned at Thorn across the table. In the months that had passed since he’d bound her stump, Letti had gradually returned to her more cheerful self. She’d learned to use her left hand in fighting, and while she was still worse than when she’d begun training with her right hand, Letti felt better about the whole world now that she woke up without pain. She’d traded swords a few times and had finally settled on a small cutlass. She appreciated the way it swung through the air, the balance it offered her newly trained limb. Garthien remarked that it made her look like a trader who frequented the violet villages. Letti had enjoyed this comparison, noting to Thorn out of Garthien’s earshot that they should become pirates. Thorn was unamused, but agreed the sword suited her.
“Did you groundwork the horses today?” Thorn asked. He took a bite of his salad, grimacing.
“If you don’t like it, don’t eat it.” Garthien groused.
In the days they had remained in his home, Garthien had softened, loosened in his interpersonal tact. Letti found that she enjoyed him much more now that he was more comfortable with her.
“Don’t you ever eat meat?” Thorn wheedled. “I don’t remember this habit of yours.”
“It’s new.” Garthien sniffed. “I only eat plants now.”
“Rabbit food.” Thorn muttered, but he took another bite of his salad.
“I did.” Letti answered Thorn. “I am hoping to ride again soon.”
“That would be an excellent progression.” Garthien nodded. “Your balance seems to be improving. I have been watching.”
“Thank you.” Letti was gratified. “I still feel as if I am flailing, but at least I feel as if I am flailing in the right direction.”
Thorn guffawed. Letti frowned.
“Did your visit go well?” Letti asked Thorn.
He had taken to travelling towards the outskirts of Ent Arden, the nearest violet village and the largest along the south of the canal. He sought news, locations of soldiers, any information that might help them make their move north.
“Uneventful.” Thorn frowned. “There are soldiers crawling along the coast.”
“We knew that.” Letti scowled. “It’s not as though they would have diminished if they were already that far south not months ago.”
Thorn nodded. “True enough.” He shook his head. “It will make our travel north more difficult.”
“Why?” Letti asked. “It is not as if we are known.”
“Well,” Thorn hedged. “If Ome Chaer and Durevin are truly connecting now, we did escape from the city with flair. Plus, no one trusts errant travelers.”
Letti shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”
“That is the idea.” Thorn agreed. “But I’d prefer to have a plan before we move along.”
“Because our plans always remain intact.” Letti muttered.
Garthien coughed into his drink.
“Can you teach me how to make tinctures?” Letti asked suddenly. She had been considering her hand and her lettuce.
“Do you ever have a normal segue?” Garthien asked casually.
Letti looked at Thorn. “I can’t do proper majik. But I would like to be able to use local plants to heal myself and others if needed.”
Thorn had paled slightly. “I am not the best teacher for this skill.”
“You said you applied some salve to my stump when we ran from the south.” Letti accused. “You do know.”
“That,” Thorn said delicately, “was a new magic salve, and I will not teach you that.”
Letti blanched. “It’s never something light with you, is it?” She asked. “You used Fae blood to heal me?” She though of Candor and felt sick to her stomach. “Who did you maim for it?”
“I didn’t.” Thorn raised both hands. “I do not harvest Fae materiel like Zorca does.”
Letti shook her head. “You should have asked.”
“I didn’t have time.” Thorn sighed. “And I only used it the once, to stem the bleeding. Using it any more would risk your addiction. I did not want that for you either.”
“What?” Letti asked, momentarily distracted.
Thorn scowled; salad forgotten. “Humans do not consume or interact with majik the same way as the Fae do. I told you this. The Fae are concentrated majik, life out of the energy. When humans consume this, it alters their body, addicts them to it in many ways. I did not want this to happen to you.”
Letti was quiet for a moment. “Did you know this would happen when you sold it to the humans all those years ago?”
It was Garthien who answered. “We did not.” He continued. “It affects each human differently. Some are more predisposed to it than others.”
Letti frowned. “When you did realize this, did you stop selling?” She knew the answer.
“No.” Thorn shook his head. “We decided the power it offered the masses was more important than the side effects.”
Letti raised an eyebrow. “Will I be addicted?”
“You’d know, I think.” Thorn observed her across the table, as if he were considering an experiment.
“You’d desire more.”
Letti took stock of herself. “I don’t.”
“Well, there you go.” Thorn sat back, relieved.
“And I am still medicine-less.” Letti sighed. “I want to be able to take care of myself.”
“A worthy goal.” Garthien leaned forward. “I have a gardner who is familiar with herbal medicines in this region. I could introduce you tomorrow.”
Letti nodded enthusiastically. “I would appreciate that.”
Garthien smiled. “Tea tomorrow, I will bring him to my chambers.”
Letti nodded, contented. Her urges to turn to Candor to tell her the news of the day had finally ebbed, and Letti was growing more confident in herself.
Late that night, as Letti settled into her room, she heard footsteps in the stairwell. She watched Thorn’s dark head disappear upstairs and wondered what he and Garthien had to speak about so late. She considered trying to eavesdrop but decided against it. She would not want anyone listening to a private conversation between her and Candor.
Letti laid down to sleep, wondering at the future, thinking of her friend, and missing that easy companionship for the first time in a month. As she drifted into dreams, she wondered when she would see Candor again, if she would see Candor again.
The next morning dawned as had every other for the last month. Letti skipped breakfast, snatching a scone on the way down to the stables. She drove Ean in circles, practicing her footwork and her body positioning. She was beginning to feel as though Ean understood her thoughts, rather than simply following her prompts with the rope. Pleased, Letti made her way out to the grass field behind the tower, finding Thorn to practice sparring. She looked forward to tea.
Finally, Letti made her way upstairs to Garthien’s chamber. Thorn followed, closing the door behind them. A diminutive man stood next to Garthien, both bent over a table with various leaves strewn over its surface. Letti’s stomach flipped with excitement.
“Letti, this is Mallaird.” Garthien introduced the man. He turned, and Letti squashed a gasp. The man’s moustache nearly swallowed his face; it stretched from ear to hear, fluffing over his lips like a large dust ruffle.
“Pleased.” Letti offered her hand.
Mallaird smiled, or at least Letti thought he smiled. It was difficult to tell under his facial mop. “I hear you wish to learn medicines.” He combined the word that it sounded like “medcines.” He had kind eyes.
Letti nodded, her own eyes alight. “Thank you for teaching me.”
“I canna teach you everything at once.” Mallaird admonished. “But I can begin with a foundation.”
“I will appreciate whatever you can offer me.” Letti approached the table.
Thorn murmured, “I’ll be downstairs.” He descended once more, having apparently decided the man was not a threat.
“Come here.” Mallaird beckoned.
Letti stood across him, the table of herbs between them. “I would teach you the names and general properties of these plants today.” Mallaird explained. “If you are amenable, next time I will show you how to extract a tincture.”
Letti nodded excitedly. Mallaird began to point at the bundles of leaves, explaining how to identify the plant and its properties. Garthien drifted away to look out his window once more.
An hour later, and happily ensconced in her learning, Letti did not notice that Garthien swept from the room quickly. She did not notice the barest hint of smoke on the air.
Mallaird was testing her on the names of the plants, pointing to each and asking her the information he had given her in their lesson. Letti had been quite successful so far.
She had just opened her mouth to offer another answer when Thorn burst into the room. Nearly simultaneously, Letti heard a deep chime emanate outside the tower. She was certain she would not have heard it had she been elsewhere in the house.
“Letti, follow me.” Thorn rushed across the room and grabbed Letti by her forearm, nearly dragging her from the chamber.
“Thorn, Thorn,” Letti yanked her arm from his grasp. His eyes were wide, his face tight in the way Letti had come to recognize his fear. “What has happened?”
“The bells of Ent Arden.” Garthien’s voice sounded from the doorway, nearly as frightened. “Mallaird, go close the armory, lock it and bring me the key.”
Mallaird swept from the room, looking sadly over his shoulder at Letti.
“We need to go.” Thorn turned once more, Garthien close behind and beckoned to Letti. “Go pack your things and meet me in the stables.”
Letti did not question Thorn. She ran to her room and tossed everything into her pack as fast as she could. In her haste, she fumbled with her left hand, this being her first crisis without her right.
A few moments later and sweating, Letti pounded down the stairs into the stables. All three horses were already saddled.
“Thorn, what is happening?” Letti cried.
“Ent Arden is under attack.” He explained quickly, his voice tight. “Those bells sound from their watchtower. I’ve never heard them ring.”
Garthien helped Letti onto the back of Ean. “Ride out the back gate, ride north. There are caves in the small barrows that border the plains.”
Letti was confused. “Why are we leaving? Ent Arden is under attack, not the tower.”
“There is a column of soldiers on the way to Marsanth.” Garthien explained quickly. “You cannot linger here. They cannot hurt me, but I would not have you in their grasp.”
“Who would attack Ent Arden?” Letti asked as they turned the horses. “That is a safe trading city. You told me that. The first port on the violet coast.”
Garthien simply shook his head. “The soldiers approaching are dressed in blue.”
Letti’s eyes widened. “Durevin.”
“So, it would seem.” Thorn’s voice was grim. “This is a free city, Garthien. That they are attacking here would mean they feel their reach has grown far.”
“Yes, and it would not do for them to capture you as well.” Garthien snapped. “Go.”
Thorn nodded. “Thank you.”
“I will send word when I can.” Garthien promised. “Now go!”
Thorn did not need telling thrice. He turned Bert and trotted out of the stables, spraying small pebbles on Garthien’s lawns as he galloped through the gardens. Letti turned to Garthien.
“Thank you.” She too said quietly. Garthien nodded, his mouth a thin line. It alarmed Letti to see his stoic demeanor so deeply rattled.
She too turned and started out of the stables, trying to get her bearings as she struggled with the reins in her one hand. Finally, she decided to leave her stump out of it, and took the reins with her left hand alone. Urging Ean along, Letti cantered after Thorn, reaching the large back doors to the garden and plunging through. She saw Thorn and Enri ahead of her and sped Ean up, his mouth frothing. In the distance, Letti heard the drums of a marching army, the promise of approach. Her gut flipped and adrenaline ripped through her veins.
After nearly a span of riding, Thorn pulled up short and pointed. “Those are the barrows. We will find a cave in there.”
“We can’t stay there?” Letti pointed with her stump to a tall ruin, what looked to be another stone tower, though not as tall as Garthien’s.
“That is expected.” Thorn explained. “I will use it as an outpost after we clear it, but we will not sleep there.”
Letti nodded. Her legs hurt; it had been a long while since she had ridden hard. Her muscles were unaccustomed to the motion.
“What do they want with Garthien?” Letti asked as they walked towards the barrows. “He cannot leave; he is no threat.”
“He knows things.” Thorn theorized. “If they are truly after information, he is a good target to interrogate. He is old, older than I am. He knows more than I do too.”
“Will he be ok?” Letti asked, concerned.
“He is wilier than you’d expect.” Thorn nodded. “He will survive. I simply hope they don’t make him leave Marsanth.”
“How is it that I did not know his tower had a name?” Letti asked absentmindedly.
“You didn’t ask.” Thorn shrugged.
“The number of questions I don’t know to ask that elide me answers is troubling.” Letti snapped. “Perhaps you should begin to share all your thoughts with me at all times.”
“That seems like a terrible idea.” Thorn replied darkly.
“I was joking.” Letti sighed.
They walked along in silence for a moment. The sky darkened to their east, promising another short tempest. Letti could no longer hear the drums on the air, but she saw the smoke on the horizon. Ent Arden was burning.
“Do you think it was because you visited?” Letti asked Thorn quietly. “Because you probed for information?”
Thorn did not reply. He and Letti gazed eastward as they watched the fires begin to dampen. A small, dark snake of silhouetted figures drew ever closer to Garthien, their footsteps unheard in the barrows. Letti waited for the rain.
~.~
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