From my other blog

Disjointed Fiction

(Originally published in Kinships issue 2, 2001)

Shira Lightfoot sat on the balls of her feet on a slight rise of the plain. The late red light of the sun on her left hid much of the detail of her face and body under shades of red and black shadow. A group of children from Brindledown who had gathered to watch her, drifted off in boredom, then regathered, stared at Shira’s bow, which lay across her thighs. She had driven the steel capped butt of her spear into the ground. This was also a source of interest for them. The children whispered to each other excitedly, speculating on the fate of her companion.

For her part, Shira ignored the children as she was lost in her own thoughts and staring at the small forest, no more that a day’s hike along either axis, opposite her. Dhom had entered the wood…

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