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Chapter 6: One Small Sun
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Chapter 8: A Song For The Dead
PREVIEW
... llo’s hand. The flavor was nearly identical to yesterday’s, scorched and peevish, no balm at all, but it cut the tremor in his muscles and coaxed a shallow warmth up his throat.
He sipped it, and Othra let the silence press in. From outside came the thud of logs splitting and the dull, wordless bellow of men at labor, but the hut itself was insulated, wrapped in a hush that made every tick of the fire seem like a clock wound down.
"You should rest," Othra said, but her words were ...
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