Ficum lay on the soft featherbed. It was quite comfortable, but he could not sleep; he tossed and turned for hours. About midnight, he groaned and sat up, rubbing the bags under his eyes and dangling his legs over the side of the bed. His mind was in turmoil. All the information he had received since he had arrived was turning over and over in his head until it ached. He rubbed his head. Bother! he said to himself. I need to clear my head. Maybe a walk outside will help. He rose and opened the bedroom door quietly.

Chapter the Twenty-eighth

Music rang across the battlefield.
Even the winged monsters glanced up. They did more than that. They shrieked and screeched and buried their heads in their arms- but they couldn’t drown out a single note.
It was a fairy song, a song that banished shadows. And Tamello led it, playing his worn guitar.
"We come through the clouds
To aid in a war!
Who are we?
Reinforcements!

We come with a fury
To protect the Llores!
Who are we?
Defenders!

Chapter 13

I AM not a violent man, but a second did not go by before that man got a look of horror on his face and shut his window before I reached it. I slammed against it and I pounded on it with one fist. “I do not believe it!” I shouted. “And if it is true, she did no wrong; she can do no wrong. Do not slander her!” I gave the shutter a shake for good measure. The hook-nosed man would not slither out into the street. Rightly, too. I was bigger than he. He was middle-aged, but he was scrawny. I suppose, though I felt anger unlike any I ever had before, I would have felt bad hurting him.

This is a tale, (or story, or whatever you prefer to call it) about me weeding my garden. Rather my mother's garden.
Weather: Very beautiful, despite it being extremely winding.
Garden size: Roughly 30x150, (It's very large)
We begin our story right after we have planted a rose, (not in the garden mind you) We start to put the water hose back when my mother says:
"We really need to clean up the garden"
The response from me and my sister,
"Why?"
"How long will it take?"

Hush, Naomi;
The sparrow sings
Beyond the twisted wire

Last night
His small hand
Held your finger,
His glassy brown eyes
Held yours

When they took him,
They left his empty blanket
In your hand:
It is cold

And still
You sit beside the door
And watch
The wood ants file
Slowly by
And hear the sparrow sing
Beyond the wire

Hush, Naomi.

Ander bowed reflexively – the same deep bow Cook had taught him even before he could walk. The ex-governess remembered her old days as a teacher for well-bred children and tried to teach her ward the manners of the upper class, though Ander had admittedly paid little attention to his lessons. The bow, though, came naturally, since he used it often enough in the palace. “It is an honor to meet you, m’lady.” Even the words were automatic, though while he said them, Ander was frantically trying to think of a way to get Thraluic’s attention without bringing the Queen’s wrath on himself.

o sweet exchange
which takes my heart and gives me Yours
the white host asks the question
“will you lose yourself for Me?”
o blessed hope
heart hallowed, held, unhindered
says “Amen”
tear out from me myself
pour into me Your life-blood
and the kiss of the host on my lips, my tongue
says I am not my own
and in the loss of myself, I am found

Liquid silver dew,
Crimson red petals,
They gather together,
They begin life a-new.
Growing in color,
Smiles they bring,
Their beauty unmatched,
Of earth do they sing.
Through their season they bloom,
Alas they must die.
Nothings eternal,
So life shall pass by.
A new rose may take,
place of an old.
So new life is given,
To us it is told.
The new bring forth life,
The old fade away,
Together they are creation,
Together they will stay.