The fire flickers, a low, pitiful thing buffeted by howling winds that snarl past hard rock and trembling branch. The dying rays of the suns set themselves amongst its burning embers, the shadows' long fingers run out, grasping into the dark tangle of the forest. They are three, alone and prone to the unseen wilderness.
Allayria watches as one of the taller hooded figures—Iaves—leans forward, prodding the feeble flames with a bandaged hand. A thick branch is hard and secure under her own hands and feet. She's crouched over it, peering out through the swaying leaves, watching as the slender one—Meg—wipes a rag around a bowl.
The last person sits a little further apart, staring out across the wide vista and into the slow descent of the suns, his back to his companions, his hood up. He hasn't moved since they found the trio. He hasn't moved as they've watched, waited, prepared.
A twig snaps nearby and Allayria turns to Hiran, whose hazel eyes catch the light, golden-green. Perched on the adjacent branch, he's staring at her, and a brow raises fractionally, the unsaid question poised.
In answer, Allayria pulls the cloth mask over her face, feeling the black fabric slide across her skin like another hide. The gloves on her hands stretch as she flexes them against the branch, sensing the wind move her through the tree. She trains her eyes on that lone figure.
The suns die on the horizon. They begin.
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Partisan - Book II
Fantasy*COMPLETE* "People don't believe in us anymore. They don't believe that in the end we will do what is right. We can't let them down. We can't let Ben win." Decisions made on top of the lonely, wind-swept cliff of Lethinor reverberate around the five...
