Dawnlight of Skaal, the smallest sun, chased the shadows of Skandirs departure. Thoolik, the Grand Eye, had set fifty one degrees earlier; vestiges of Her heat remained in the high outcroppings and ridges of the Worlds Backbone, where we had made our camp. Rayden, our shaman, had drawn the lot for First Watch, so the rest of us tucked in under the skimmer for an uneasy rest. The children, well-accustomed to the hard routine of our endless migration, huddled behind the aft fringe as we engaged in the end-of-day poke.
Posted on: Sun, 08 Jun 2014 03:22:46 +0000
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