Weapons wrapped up in silk for sale down in the River Valley, with her Dragon blade at her hip, the end glowing softly in the summer breeze, Malory stood with a pack slung over one shoulder, watching as her son said goodbye to his boyfriend, speaking in hushed tones. Malory’s smile disappeared when he noticed the Widow White make her way over to her, leaning heavily on a can of wood and brass, her pudgy fingers gripping the cane as if her knee were too fragile to support her girth for even a fraction of a second.
Friday, November 21, 2014
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Fantasy Friday - A Dowry for Hamelin, Part One
Malory sighed as she plunged the red hot blade into the barrel of water next to the anvil, a hiss of steam issuing from the bubbling water as the sword went from red hot to cold steel. Pulling it up, she held it up so she could examine the blade, holding it by the undecorated hilt of the blade.
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