Just then the windchimes banged together and Lonan appeared with a gull feather tucked behind his ear. He broke in between the three of them, hoisting Meredy and Merle up like cats by the scruff.
The flutist stood at the railing of the ship, playing a cheery jig over it all. The song died when Lonan skidded to the water’s edge. He looked Lonan up and down.
A solitary auburn-haired figure pored over amber shards split open on a table stacked with maps. With a heavy needle, they chipped at the crinkled legs of spiders and wasps trapped inside. The two seagull feathers sat next to an aged sextant on the maps.
The mercenaries of Selwyn’s horde cast out from the harbors of Eir Nu by the time night lifted. They raced for Avalon. Lonan did not know about Una Beli’s horde, but feared the fear that was rank in the air.
Huh. I realized I usually declare my Nanowrimo project before November as a formality, so here it is for anyone who hasn't heard.
You'll all be pleased to know today is National Be Late For Something today. You might think I'm making this up to excuse missing a post, but I beg to differ. Look it up.
“A little too early, I see. In any case, call me Halcyon for now.” The man watched James another moment, then disentangled his long fingers and rose gracefully from his chair. James tracked the back of his vibrant green coat as he moved to the window.
“Right,” James said. He observed the six of them, all lounging on storage crates, with the mistrustful resignation of a groom at his shotgun wedding. “I guess this makes us a team from now on.”
Uh, no, James would have said if he was Eric. But he was James, and the slow burn of Lizzy’s stare stopped him by the oregano pots.
“Let me tell the story of your life,” Eric panted. He didn’t have time to stop and breathe, and the white proximity of the four blades closed his throat. His Adam’s apple convulsed drily--he'd better talk fast.