In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer
It doesn’t take long for word to reach her of the guard calling for Warden Weaver (would that ever sound normal?). She tosses on her cloak and scythe as she whirls out of the Kraai to find him. Was it so much to ask for a minute to herself? A minute for things to not go wrong? Yet there was always something. Always someone with a complaint or a problem.
Neron should be thanking her for taking this mess off his hands.
It doesn’t take her long to find the guard, and so slows to a stop in front of him. ”What is it?” she asks, taking in the blood and his pale face, worry growing in the pit of her stomach.
Neron should be thanking her for taking this mess off his hands.
It doesn’t take her long to find the guard, and so slows to a stop in front of him. ”What is it?” she asks, taking in the blood and his pale face, worry growing in the pit of her stomach.
WEAVER
