The Breath is Life, the wind that carries us,
The Blood the Sea, awaiting a storm to stir,
The Bones old Stone, ground by swirling sand,
The Soul Burns, as tender shoots reach for sun,
The Stillness is Life, a calm between intemperate rage,– Shamanistic Proverbs, 23 E.R.
The Heart the Watcher, counting out remaining days,
The Stone is the Grave, where all must return to dust,
The Fire Salvation, against the darkness that comes.
The Breath of Life
Etore groaned as she was rolled over. She might have tensed at the sight of a dragon head, but muscles still in shock ignored even instinct. Wren was trying to help, but her jaw was faring better than the rest of her, and needed none. “I never thought I’d say it, but I hate being right.”
The dragon turned her gaze down. “Do you, little one? Who are you?”
“Etore bloody Lane,” she muttered. “Rightful heir of… oh who cares. You’ll either not believe it, and still keep us prisoner, or add it to the list of reasons, to keep us prisoner, am I right? Not always sure I believe it myself any way.”
The dragon laughed. “You’re almost as much fun as the silver one.”Continue reading “Chapter III:54”