part 11 Amira noticed for the first time that it was considerably warmer near the river than it had been in the cool passageway. She pulled back the hood of her cloak, sending her light hair tumbling down her back. “Waves of gold,” her father had always teased her. “One strand could make you rich, ‘Mira.” A small prick of guilt struck her as she remembered that she was disobeying him right now. Even though his instruction had been given years ago, she knew that he had a good reason for everything he asked her to do. Shaking her head to loosen her hair and to clear her thoughts, she reached into her bag and pulled out a leather band. Working quickly and easily, she twisted her hair up and wrapped it around her head, fastening it with the leather. “Perfect,” she murmured in satisfaction. Niilo suddenly froze beside her and stood erect, nose wrinkling as he concentrated on smelling the air. “What is it, boy?” Amira turned to face her dog. “What do you smell?” The fur on Niilo’s neck went up and he bound up the river. Amira followed him. “Wait! Niilo!” she called, stumbling over the stones on the ground, but the dog turned a sharp corner and was lost to sight. As she neared the corner, she could hear him growling and barking. She rounded the corner and stopped in astonishment. Niilo was facing off with two young men around her age. One was wearing a shockingly bright orange tunic that was wet and muddy around the bottom. He was slightly behind his companion and seemed to be shrinking back. It was the other young man that caught Amira’s attention. His face was youthful, yet full of a kind of wisdom that only comes from age. His eyes were alert and he had only one arm, which held an impressive sword. He was standing straight and bold, ready for anything. Almost anything. copyright 2013 Andrew Compton. All rights reserved.
Posted on: Sat, 26 Oct 2013 18:32:26 +0000
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