At the edge of the battlefield they stop to regroup. Uncle whittles a #spoke from wyvern bones as Grandma mends wagon roofs with dire wolf hides. Mother lights the funeral fires that night. Might not be our kin that fell, but we’ll honor their sacrifices all the same.
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!