Nuwmont 1, 998 AC

First New Moon (on or about Nuwmont 1, 998AC)

I cannot go into the specifics of the Greensinger’s ritual. Some would equate it to the  Naming ceremony of the Ylaruam. Certainly there was water involved— cold snowmelt from the Black Peaks. Much to Aurora’s irritation, her sister had to shed a few drops of blood, as did I. Vows were spoken in the Druid’s tongue. Offerings were made to several different Immortals. 

Kaldmont 28th, 997, continued

We ate in silence, another of the lay druids bringing us bowls of winterberries and the yellow-gold apples originally grown in Darokin.

I nearly lost a finger carving one of the apples as a spike of anxiety tensed most of the muscles along my left arm, the fingertips stinging.

Handmaidens of Petra: Halav's Camp

“And how did my Lady fare?” the big red-bearded man asked, looking up as Jasna was pushed into the tent. The man frowned, but rose. He kicked one of the men next to him, and the other two men got to their feet as well. With some effort, Justin struggled to rise. The wine, and the heat of the tent made him dizzy.

Handmaidens of Petra: Black Peaks, and the Riverside Village

“The horses are gone,” Brynne said. “The entire campsite is gone.” 

She and Katarin stood at the wide spot in the path before it doubled back on itself, where they’d narrowly escaped being overwhelmed by the goblin scouting party.

“And no signs at all of passage,” Katarin said. “It is very hard to hide a horse’s passing.”

Handmaidens of Petra: Windrush Lake, and River

Jasna slowed, her breath coming in short, painful gasps. She’d run as if… well, as if she’d had gnolls at her heels, and put quite a bit of distance between herself and the hunting pack.

Her heart sank, as she saw it was all for nothing. The bridge wasn’t there. It was no trick of the fog, either, for there was no clinging gray mists, no flickering blue lights within. The bridge wasn’t washed out -- it would take a giant to make the arching stone bridge budge even the littlest bit. The bridge simply was not there. As if it had never been built.

Handmaidens of Petra: Lake Windrush, continued

Justin nearly gagged on the reek of wine that spilled from the man’s lips, along with his words. The hand on his shoulder was thick-fingered, soot-stained, scarred and calloused, and he was immediately reminded of Old Padrig, the smith at the garrison.

Handmaidens of Petra: Lake Windrush

A rock splashed into the lake, off to her right. Another skipped across the water, closer. A third clipped Jana’s shoulder, and she stumbled.

The stone-tipped spear whistled past her ear, where her neck had been a mere moment before, and she gasped a curse, followed just as quickly by a prayer of thanks to Korotiku. She snatched up the weapon.

Though she wasn’t as good with the spear as Brynne, the bigger girl had taught Jasna a few basic moves. But she had the spear, not the gnoll. That was Koritiku’s fifth rule: The enemy’s weapon in your hand means it is not in his. She combined it with Korotiku’s third rule: The enemy that cannot catch you cannot hurt you.

Handmaidens of Petra: The Quest, continued

A sharp jab in the side snapped Jasna awake, and she choked as she drew in water with the sharp intake of breath. She coughed, sputtering, rolling onto her side.

She blinked against the high sun’s brilliance, and then it was blotted out by a shaggy long-snouted head.

Kaldmont 28th: Dreams, Remembrances

Last of the Longwinter’s Year (on or about Kaldmont 28, 997AC)

I awoke from dreams of flame to the sound of Sera’s quiet weeping. The ghost of woodsmoke clung to my nostrils, my eyes feeling of gritpaper though the night was cool and clear. My heartbeat began to slow, as the earth beneath my fingers told me of no sign or trace of the roaring inferno that awakened me.