The Sorcerer

Crunch…  Crunch…  Crunch…  Crunch…  Crunch…  Crunch… Each and every step Sparks Clearpath took ended with an icy crunch. Each and every movement forward through the calf-high snow that had blanketed Cagleton was its own little struggle. To pull a leg free. To keep herself and her bulky traveling gear steady and upright. To let her boot sink back down halfway into the snow. To make sure she…


Passage Of Years

This was a very different sort of thing I tried on a whim late into the morning one night. I wanted to see if I could show the passage of time through conversation alone. I also wanted to have the characters speed entirely for themselves with no description of who was talking. Each brief conversation takes place on a different year that Sparks visited the Cunninghams, and the numbers show the…


The Fateful Storm

Mkali Moto Kipande Njia’yawazi awoke to the unsettling feeling of her entire home shaking around her! Still suspended somewhere between her dreams and full wakefulness, the young elven woman opened her eyes in alarm at… at what?! The only sources of sound or movement were the roaring flames and the dancing shadows that they cast from the fireplace before her.  “Maybe it had been nothing?’…


The Failed Scheme

The Failed Scheme The constant, repeating sounds of her horse’s slow trot and her wagon’s four rotating wheels fell silent as Mkali Moto Kipande Njia’yawazi came to a sudden stop. A smile formed on her lips and she breathed a small, satisfied sigh of relief as she stood and gazed into the distance. Far ahead, only just peaking around the curve of the soft green ridge the elven maiden had been…


Something Shiny

Sparks Clearpath continued along the unfamiliar forest trail before her, not at all sure of where she was being lead this clear, chilly morning. Dressed in her soft, warm hunting gear with little more than a bow and a handful of arrows in a quiver across her back, she had, two hours ago, realized she was being hurried along off her usual paths to parts of her forest she did not know. Ordinarily,…


Ddaear

The storm had come and stayed and stayed and when it had finally gone it left so much changed. To Mkali Moto Kipande Njia’yawzai's young eyes, each new downed tree, flooded lowland, and reshaped hill was an adventure that called, no that demanded, to be explored. The eleven child, appearing no more than eleven or twelve human years of age, seemed only to know how to laugh and run as she carved a…