Crofton Fief was nowhere near a site where people could be found in the most ubiquitous manner.
It seemed like winter all the time. The sky was bleak and bland - there was no way to know when it was day or night. A murder of crows screeched and rested on dead black skeletons of trees that must have lived and died before the Iron Age. The air was stale, silent, still… the party, all of whom were riding towards the town, shivered with both and eerie discomfort and chilliness.

I wasn’t afraid to turn my back
The cuts were healing
The scars disappearing
The tears no more

But she stabbed me in the back
She made the cuts bleed afresh
The scars were cut deeper by her
The tears renewed
Again

4
I fell silent as we stepped off the pavement, out of the cold, and into the chip shop. I wrinkled my nose as feeling returned to it, inhaling the delicious smell of salt and vinegar. We crossed the black-and-white-checkered floor between the rows of two booths on each side.
In I way, I think our order of coping chips was to stall the actual coping. Even the much-pierced girl behind the counter must have sensed the discomfort between us.

(Here goes, Erin! You did Faye... I did this. Chapter One is coming, but even though I don't have anymore than that completed, I thought I should post before we hold the website funeral.)

Forgive me, I have failed you

   The next day, exactly a fortnight from when she had come to the manor, she left it, wearing the same blue and green dress. One difference was that Aunt Eldira let her get up later than she had for her first journey. Their goodbye was not exactly affectionate, but it was not as cold as their greeting two weeks ago. "Recent circumstances," as Lady Eldira had put it, allowed for some empathy between the two. Eldira was mourning the loss of a friend, and, in a different way, so was Annica. She'd cried herself to sleep the night before over Alton's shocking behavior.

**A poem of two perspectives. It was written while I thought about the two main characters of my (other) novel. Aida's people are a race descended from Dryads, and... well, I hate to give the plot away, so glean what you will from the poem.**

They have offered me my life for my love.
They will kill us all- unless we surrender lovely Julian.
He is more than what he seems. He is the chosen one; I see that now.
How could anyone do this to him? And how can he not do it? He is too noble to let them kill us all.
They will hand him over, and he will go.
Lovely Julian!
They have offered our lives for my love.

Behold, he speaks!
He says he will go. He will betray himself to death to save lives. If it will save lives. This he has determined to do, and he will not turn back.

Left, with bruised heart. Beating a steady weary beat, behind the cover of fear. Afraid to love. Afraid to be loved. Everything just seems...like betrayal. Everything ends, just as the heart begins to open; cautiously, quietly, and then it cringes, because it's gone.

Crucified today
my arms nailed back
stretched out to embrace
held back by your nails

My heart that beat to love
now bleeds my blood
nailed fast my feet
that tried to walk
the path of love and peace

The pain is an unending ocean
stretching before my weary,
dropping shoulders
pulling me away
while I'm nailed here to stay

Your slap in my face
still stings
because of memories
that remain;
the pain and shame
for you