The website of Allene R. Lowrey
On the morrow, with only a sip of ale to counter the festivities of the night before and while his father proved new recruits, Einarr followed Saetild, the friendliest and least tree-like of the Matrons, down the path through the Whispering Woods. As lovely as the wood first appeared, Einarr felt the hairs on the…
“As for you, my Lady Singer, I have questions.” Runa smiled up at him impishly, hugging his arm. “Walk with me, my Lord, and I may have answers to give.” Einarr and his betrothed wandered the empty streets arm-in-arm, neither of them minding in this moment that desertion that had bothered him not long before.…
“Would someone mind telling me why I have straw stabbing my back?” For someone who had just awoken from a grievous injury, Einarr sounded remarkably collected. “Presumably,” Jorir grumbled. “Because you did something reckless again. You must have left half your blood on the last floor.” “I assure you, the alternative would have left more…