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Registered: 07-2012
Posts: 337
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At Cathbad's Circle, Another Missive


Affixed by a long sliver of bone thrust through both paper and two low-hanging oak leaves, the scroll, bound in two sprays of brine-steeped pink foxglove, bobs in the breeze:


"Elder Dunhain,

A treach'rous time to us now falls.
The Wolf, yet chained despite our toils.
Too fell for us in Avendel's walls,
Where Spire hears and earth recoils.

I ken the path through weave and wold.
The Wolf God's freedom does behoove
That eldritch metal shannae hold.
When, then, shall we make our move?

           --B"
4/20/2013, 6:51 am Link to this post Send Email to The Wids   Send PM to The Wids Blog
 


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