Dena sat at her camp fire brooding. She had a flask of very poor wine in her hand. She had not drank a drop, she just stared into the moving flames. Sleep took her away from her grief.
When Dena woke she found a parchment hanging over her head from a low tree branch. She jumped to her feet grabbing her sword. She scanned the meadow that she decided to sleep in, nothing was there. Nobody.
Now she must have drank some of that wine for her to fall into a deep enough sleep for someone to approach her and the tree she slept under. She sheathed her sword and untied the parchment. Opening it she read it, then she jumped on her hound, Greenly. This might be the lead that she was looking for all along.
No comments:
Post a Comment