The following morning, Brandyé felt his mind clear, and his decision was made. The call to ride to Elven was too strong to resist, and he began to consider how he might make his departure. To the best of his knowledge, there would be no coach to the south for many weeks, so he would need a horse—a good one, if possible. Elven’s message inspired urgency, and he would not take longer than needed if he could help it.
Continue reading By the following spring, nearly two dozen folk from Burrowdown had learned of the Scythe’s Blood. The great mark Sonora had left upon the Burrow Bridge had the effect they sought; for some days, all thought of wolves and darkness was drowned in talk of the mark and its creator. The origin of the mark was yet a mystery to the villagers, and despite Brandyé’s own reputation, not once did suspicion seem to settle upon him. This was possibly because Brandyé had sought to present as well-behaved a person as he possibly could whenever he found himself among the people of the village.
Continue reading Some time after Brandyé and Reuel returned to Burrowdown, the sky became clouded and did not clear. It seldom rained, but nor did the sun shine through, and the village gradually settled into gloom. Brandyé returned to his life at their home and discovered that, in effect, he was the head of the household; Reuel now did very little work, though he still would make a fabulous stew each weekend. For a brief moment, Brandyé felt he had returned to the abandonment of his childhood, when his grandfather was his one and only lord, and a kindly one.
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Satis Writes 