No matter where he was, or what he was doing, there was always this nebulous sense of need. Kel tried to focus on the harness he was cleaning, carefully kneading the oil into the weathered leather. It was slow tedious work and he normally enjoyed the task, losing hours in the hypnotic rhythm. But not today. Today the need itched and burned in the back of his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck with one oil-soaked hand trying to massage away the phantom pain. He’d felt it more often recently, and his time between, those moments of blissful normality were getting shorter and shorter. He let out a small angry hiss of breath and frowned as the massive draft animals circled nervously in their stalls, grunting in response. He was running out of time.
My name is Martha Bechtel and I write fantasy and science fiction stories, paint small model horses silly colors, cast resin and plaster magnets, code random code (and Wordpress plugins)... Come on in and join in the fun!