Type: Short Story
Washer Woman
The blade is not mine.
The Lady and the Eye
I leap from the edge without thinking. A long drop to the icy river. Arrows pelt the water around me and I dive for my life.
A Dragon for Cymnea
My memory is long, longer even than my life. I remember those things that befell my poor mother before I cracked my shell. I am part of my ancestry, a long, thin line stretching into…