Issue #223
April 13, 2017

I Have Been Drowned in Rain

Jared studied her, her sopping hair and gaunt face. She was nothing to him, or shouldn't have been. The story she told—he might have ridden past the field where she worked a hundred times and never noticed her, not even her face, because it was bent to the earth.

When We Go

"At the end, where else?" Streamers of greasy black smoke leaked from her cloak to vanish in the wind, her body like dry grass in my arms. I shook her, but she, the god of the dead, was dead herself and my hands empty but for her cloak of feathers.

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I Have Been Drowned in Rain
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Jared studied her, her sopping hair and gaunt face.
From the Archives:
How the Wicker Knight Would Not Move
"And yet Now is upon us," said Tvarn Wind-Tamer. "For the Perfection is moving. Look."