Featuring a giveaway for a copy of Beth Cato’s short fiction collection Red Dust and Dancing Horses: And Other Stories!
"Take a look. I have them here with me. Please, godling." The girl's fear seeped into the words—as did her faith that Dreya would make everything right again. Dreya was unworthy of such devotion, but she drank it in nevertheless.
I touched my cheekbones. Was that how I looked after a single offering? How would I endure this for two more times? I washed my face and crossed the village to Mkiwa’s hut. Her face still paled, but her strong body had stifled the pain. Did her heart’s pain fare any better, though? I couldn’t tell.
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