Issue #219
February 16, 2017

Gravity’s Exile

She eased herself over the edge, bare toes feeling for footholds. As in most villages, these had been deeply carved to make getting around easy, and even supplemented with metal bars in places or flat ledges for resting. Every few fathoms there was a round eyebolt for attaching a child’s tether. It was a trivial climb, and in no time Jeone was down among the trees.

The Last Dinosaur Rider of Benessa County

Black Jonas secures Essie, his pleesaur, to a ring occupied by a massive, rusted droop-chain and walks down the promenade, noting the old storefronts. Brackysaur bays still line the boardwalk where land meets canal, big ol' rectangular cutouts in the once-white stone, used for loading and unloading back in the days of the dinosaur riders.

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Men of the Ashen Morrow
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Sal stood alone in the field, feeling the absence of her friend's touch. Being open to death was the cost of living free.
From the Archives:
Sinking Among Lilies
With the clawmarks as a warning, I'd slept in my clothes.