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TWO HUNDRED SEVENTY-TWO: Avowed
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TWO HUNDRED SEVENTY-FOUR: To Everything
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... making little sound against the stones. This was the first morning of his weekend, and a call had come while he’d been engaged in his search for skills worthy of Alden.
Quinyeth-wit waited beneath the high arch of entwined wood that formed the gate. She hadn’t seen him yet. She was so close to the blood mark on the ground that she risked being reminded that standing with one’s toes touching the boundary wasn’t much more respectful than stepping over it. And she was also bouncing in place ...
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