The wind nipped through the windows, fluttering the curtains solemnly. As the fabric flew out, the darkness of the night was revealed. Beside the bed in which her children lay, the Elve stroked their cheeks, watching as they slept in the glow of the candlelight, her two boys. Her expression seemed admiring, to watch her children sleeping so calmly, oblivious to every problem that could occur. As the door behind her was thrown open, she did not turn. Instead, her face began to become twisted with fear, and anger, and her eyes grew damp.
“Kudrow? Where are we going?”
Jenna looked all around herself before she guided the heavy door closed behind her, but she saw nothing but the usual dull browns of the late summer sky after the passing of one of the worst dust storms of the season, and the grey browns of the ground all around the Door.
“To the Duke of Laodinshnider, Vicar of the Highlands, esteemed servant of Tyrus the Incomparable, God-King Undefeatable, on the 7th of Aym in the year of our Lord. It is with the most unbiased of intent and truncated formal sensibilities that I inform you our treaty uniting us against Gairoadyn, Demon Sorcerer under the Sea, is hereto cancelled and made of none effect. Gairoadyn’s armies decimated my village in the Lower Establishment, armies led by their dark princess with your eldest son by her side.
For some time, my uncle was the closest remaining sheep farmer to the glaciers. They were closing in from both sides: the continental sheet was coming up from the coast, while on the other side the Pennines had long since been covered. There was just a thin corridor in between like the one paleolithic peoples supposedly used to reach the Americas, except that it was a corridor which came to a dead end at the point where the glaciers intersected. That point drew nearer to the farm with every year. My uncle was not intimidated. He insisted that the glaciers might start to retreat anytime, and he was determined not to budge unless the ice pushed him out.
In the beginning, all was shapeless and still, filled with darkness and emptiness. Then with a single low, tolling note, a pale light appeared that quickly grew to fill in the cracks in... everywhere. It grew in intensity as the note was sustained, then it seemed to fade away once more, leaving seemingly countless specks of itself behind that would form the patterns later races would one day call the constellations.
It was a full moon on the night before the three got separated for good. The Native American Chief’s wife asked “tell me it's not true Dakota…say it's just a story that everybody is talking about”, as they both sat round the campfire waiting for some news from one of the observers or Fred. They both stared into the fire; they could see the three triplets playing in the orphanage in the department, knowing that the three of them would soon forget each other.
Revenge is a dish best served with mustard and mayonnaise, thought Charlie as she stared with cold anger at the crumbs on the ground before her.
After surviving the carnage, our reluctant heroes must learn to trust each other, so that they can start the journey to reclaim honor...
It is her eye sight that she loses first, dark brown eyes that were once able to see the world, rendered useless.