Andrev gazed, awed and confused, at the people who stood on the edge of his camp, an array of strangers dressed like foreign kings and queens from fairy stories, all of them with their heads held high, horns unhidden.
None of them had more than three horns.
“What brings you here?” he asked. “Dalinor is dead --”
“Kinslayer,” the woman spat.
“He was no kin of mine, that he abandoned me to these mortals,” Andrev said.
“You’ve ruined the balance of what should be,” the woman said, “and we are here to punish you.”
Then the air was filled with crows.
1 comment:
Oh my goodness, this is exciting! Perhaps you're already aware that the collected noun is an unkindness of ravens which a)I love!, and b)would work nicely here. Oh wait, it's crows--they're a murder. Oooh!
Post a Comment