PREVIEW
... a quest.
Adrian sat on the stump, a small pile of sturdy, straight branches beside him that he’d collected from the woodpile. In his hand, he held his harvesting sickle.
Grey sat on the frozen ground a few feet away, watching him with intense fascination. Her head was cocked as he took the first branch and began using the sharp edge of the sickle to whittle one end to a sharp, nasty point. The sound of the blade scraping against the wood was rhythmic, almost peaceful in the quiet ...
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