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...not..."

You do feel a little bad for doing that to her, but somehow, a part of you justifies the action.  It hurts so much, being so engrossed with everything about her, and she doesn't even show you any affection, yet she practically throws herself over Paul.  It must be the wild and dashing streak the two of them both have, his pirate-like roguishness and her free spirited nature, that went together so well. 

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything..." you say, only half meaning it.

"I- uh- ...it's ok," she says at last, taking a deep breath and then opening the bottle of winemilk Ciana hands her.  It doesn't have strong alcohol in it, the stuff is barely even considered alcohol under the law, but it has enough of a soothingness to it that calms her down somewhat.

"Ok," she says at last.  "We better get down to the creek."

Have something else to eat, then go

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UltimaDan A basic, typical fantasy style story with all the classic elements - elves in the forest, dwarves underground, old wizards in towers and the like. It's largely just to experiment with the form more than anything, although the idea formed ages ago before I got depressed.

The idea is that about a dozen characters meet each other along the way on a perilous journey north into the heart of evil/darkness/symbolic force thereof.

Arrith and co head north-west to the capital, Pasaveer, a day or two out from their home town of Terris. Kemvar accompanies them. They are looking for information about a cursed armour, shield and weapon that one of the goblin leaders mutters something about. On your trail is the men with wolf tattoos, and behind them is the rouge Hailyn has been waiting like a lover for.

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