“A faint wisp of the Northern Lights swept like a wraith across the inky black. The wind flicked his raven-black hair from his face and stung his eyes. She was in there. The time was coming. The conflict in his heart hoped that it might not be tonight, but that if it was, it would be before the dawn broke over the hills opposite. The howl of a wolf echoed across the valley. He recognized Aatu’s cry. She had been here always, before him. She’d been here all the time he’d been far away, far from t...he pain. She would still be here after he left. A bird splashed in the dark reeds along the side of the beck at the cry, protecting her young from the night, just as he’d protected the woman in the croft when he could. And when his presence had threatened her, he’d left to take the threat far away. He wrapped his cloak tight around him, though he didn’t need it against the cold. He felt neither cold nor warmth—only loss. He touched the deerskin pouch that hung from the leather thong around his neck.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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