Sometimes she felt more like thirty, instead of nineteen. The same long walk home where the same silent memories waited.

The same whirl of snow as she opened the door. “Goodnight to you too,” It had been the same routine for the past five years. With a roll of her eyes, Micayta pulled on a thick pair of gloves. He didn’t bother to so much as pause in his counting. She was already wearing several layers to ward off the cold, but she would still need the cloak to protect her.ĭelane grunted. I’m going home.” Micayta plucked her cloak from the rack by the door. Delane was behind the bar, counting bottles and making marks on a piece of white cloth. Everything was in its place and as clean as it was bound to get.Īfter hanging her apron on its hook by the door, Micayta stepped into the tavern’s main room, where a fire blazing in the hearth kept the winter chill at bay. The dishes were stacked to dry, the cutting table was clear of blood, the floor was swept. As she untied her apron, Micayta looked around the kitchen. She hauled the barrel back inside and set it in the corner, then pulled the back door shut and dropped a heavy wooden bar across it to keep the wind from blowing it open. “Miss a little sleep and you start imagining things.” “You’re losing it,” she muttered to herself. Even the moonglow seemed weaker as it glinted off the glass roof of the greenhouse behind the tavern. Stars that seemed faded of late, as if they no longer shone as brightly as they once had. Pausing to stretch her back, she stared up at the stars glittering in the night sky. The water was only for cleaning but they still didn’t want it freezing. Micayta dumped the last barrel of dishwater into the well and sealed it shut, making sure the cap on the top of the well was snug. To my mother, without whom this book would not exist. If you are interested in purchasing more works of this nature, please visit by Wild Child The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. Pirating hurts the entire publishing community. Please delete it from your computer and purchase it again.

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Shadow of the Dragon by Kyra Dune