Date: 2006-06-08 03:14 am (UTC)
There is a man, in robes of ebony velvet, that swallow shadow like the thirsty gulps water. He sits on a log; a fire has a camp-pot over it, and there is waterskin, a few packets of spices, and odds and ends assorted here.

It is, Raistlin reflects, missing only Caramon's growling stomach to complete this nostalgic scene from the past.

"Stew? The rabbit is fresh." But his hands are clean of blood, and there is no hareskin here now. To whit, the stew is spiced; bubbling with meat, potatoes nd greens, it smells enticingly of marjoram.
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Blodwen Rowlands

July 2010

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