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Old 10-20-2006, 01:17 PM   #235
Messenger of Hope
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Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.
Posts: 5,228
Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
Athwen took the mug that Azhar had drunk from and rinsed it with water. She dried it with a cloth and put it away to the side, where she could remember that it was the one Azhar had used. She moved her pack over to where Dorran sat and there she sank to the ground beside him. As she finally sat down and let her body relax she realized just how tired she was.

Her blue eyes blinked heavily a few times, fixed on something far away. Unconsciously, she sagged closer and closer to her husband. He moved his arm and put it about her shoulders without looking down at her as he continued listening carefully to the talk.

“You see, wars are not always won by the sword,” Lindir was saying. “Sometimes they are won by whoever can use his wits the best. Your people are not trained with weapons and that is a disadvantage, but they have had to stay active and alert just to survive. I am sure there were times when you had to come up with a trick to outwit the plantation masters. That's exactly what we must do now. . .”

His voice faded into the confused sounds of the waking day. A bright light burst over the eastern horizon. The sun rose in majesty. Athwen’s head turned slightly away, her eyelids tightened, then relaxed. A sigh escaped her half open lips. With the last bit of her wakeful mind, she felt Dorran dip his head and kiss her lightly and she slept.
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