A pause only Winnifletch herself notices, a twinge in her guts as she unsacks the gull that Gert Mews has lugged to her sea-spindle shack.

The Patron grimaced. As if a plate of millet would heal these wounds any more than a pint of water would slake the desert's thirst.

A pause only Winnifletch herself notices, a twinge in her guts as she unsacks the gull that Gert Mews has lugged to her sea-spindle shack.

My colleagues and I, however, are civilised, educated men.

A more tunnel-like hole had been dug into some of the graves, possibly to test them for the freshness of the corpses.

You carry a rifle and a dream of a white dress. You sleep under the stars. You hunt.

They died, or they didn’t, and Helena burned them or handed their things back before they headed down the road.