Wednesday, September 22, 2010

An Order

“Ciaran,” Brenna said, “find Niamh and Deagan and tell them to repair captured enemy ships and move. There’s a land to the south and west where their kind will be safe, where they can dance in the standing circles and sing to the sun.”

“The southwest? What are you saying?” Ciaran tugged on her elbow. “Brenna, you have to go–”

“That’s an order,” Brenna said firmly.

“But they’ll kill you.”

Brenna shoved him, hard, and he’d forgotten that she was so much stronger than she looked. He stumbled, and when he caught his balance he was running for the trees.

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