Chapter 12
Desperate Rescue
“Theron!”
Every muscle in the prince’s body stiffened. He stood on the edge
of Savior’s Way, his back almost pressed against a tree. A burly man barred his
way, mace in hand. He was covered in Han Ci armor, dark wood carved to fit the
shape of his body. Sweat dripped from Theron’s brow as he held up his shield,
his ears ringing from Olivia’s scream. He had to get to her, had to save her!
What had forced him from her side? He could not remember.
With a cry, he gritted his teeth and threw himself against his own
shield. The fiend before him fell back against the blow with a startled shout.
Theron ducked, the mace hurling overhead and scarcely missing him. He steadied
his stance, tightened the grip on his sword, and lunged forward.
The blade pierced between the wooden joints of armor. The man
threw his head back and screamed, grasping at Theron’s embedded blade. Theron
forced him to the ground and ripped his sword free without a second glance. He
left the man where he lay, his widened eyes darting over the chaos. He turned
to where Olivia’s cries had come from.
He saw Elshender beside the wagon, upright and blades raised high.
A wolf of sorts circled him, jaws open in a twisted smile. The two ladies-in-waiting
were in tears and clung to one another under the wagon’s shadow. A lump formed
in Theron’s throat. No Olivia.
Fire leapt to his eyes and he charged through the chaos, sword up
and shield down. The shouts and danger around him passed like a blur. He burst
through the line of trees, senses alert and every nerve on edge. He blinked in
the sudden shadows and tried to focus.
“Olivia!” He saw and heard no one. His nostrils flared. Wizard,
have mercy! He stepped forward and gritted his teeth. Something moved from
behind a stout tree. Theron hurled around the trunk and a shout met his ears.
The hard lines of his face softened and he lowered his sword. Olivia shivered
as she recoiled on the ground, her hands raised.
“It’s me! It’s me!” Theron gasped. He pulled her to her feet and
looked her up and down. She could stand and, though fear clouded her eyes, she
was not wounded or even bleeding. He placed her behind him, one hand holding
his sword and his shielded arm holding her.
An arrow whizzed by and struck the tree. The two dropped to the
ground; Theron’s body sheltered hers. He looked between the underbrush and
limbs and could scarcely see the battle. He watched his men hack at their
enemies, the strangers crying out and falling back. Why had they come? They did
not fight to steal their provisions. They did not seek out one person as
headhunters would. Only mad men killed for sport. . . .then again, this was
Wraith’s Hollow.
A whistle shot above the din, sharp and sudden. The sound of
muffled footfall met his ears, and then there was silence. His eyes narrowed
and he stood, looking to Savior’s Way and saw only his men. The wild men were
gone, as though they never were.
Many bodies and abandoned weapons lay on the ground between
blood-smeared grass. The wounded cried in pain, their hands grasping the
lesions and gashes, covered in their own blood with their comrades kneeling to
help. The injured wild men left behind were swiftly dealt with. The wood was
quiet once again. The only sounds were the gasping breaths of the men-at-arms
and the thud of hearts. Theron’s bunched muscles relaxed, and he lowered his
dripping blade.
“Theron . . .” Olivia whispered as tears poured down her ashen
face. He drew her closer. “I thought . . . I—”
“Shhh . . . don’t talk now.” Theron hushed her.
Olivia’s bottom lip trembled. “Have they left? Are you certain?”
“Yes.” Theron looked to the road. “We’re safe for the moment; the
enemy has disappeared into the wood.”
Olivia closed her eyes and her body collapsed. Theron grunted as he
caught her. He picked her up and carried her out of the trees, avoiding the
grabbing branches as best he could. As they emerged, a squire half drew his
bow, but stopped once he recognized them. The prince gave him a wary look, and
the boy ducked away.
Theron stepped over a body and past hacked remains to an open spot
amid the ruins of battle. He lowered himself and Olivia onto Savior’s Way, her
head leaning against his chest. Cedany crawled out from under the wagon and
pulled Krea out behind her. She fetched her lady water and knelt at her side as
Krea went to Elshender and began to bandage his clawed shoulder between
sniffles. She kept looking up to the sky, the men, and the treetops, but never
down to the death and blood at her feet.
Theron leaned down and kissed Olivia’s head. He closed his eyes
and breathed in her scent. Thank You, he said to The Wizard. He
heaved a deep sigh. Thank You. He stood and glanced at Cedany. “Watch
her.”
“I knew you would come.”
Theron looked down and found Olivia watching him. Theron swallowed
and turned away, unable to speak. He managed a nod and motioned to Elshender
before he said something foolish. “We must continue on,” he said and cleared
his throat. “We are almost out of Wraith’s Hollow.”
“Thank the Powers,” Olivia whispered and closed her eyes.
Theron’s brows creased as he glanced at her, but he said nothing.
Countess Primis rushed to Olivia and looked down at her, heaving a sigh and
laying a hand over her chest. Her perfect hair was now in wild strands, and her
green kirtle was stained by mud and someone’s blood.
“I’m quite all right,” Olivia whispered.
“Well, I can see that,” Primis said. She turned to Earl Quinn as
he cleaned his sword, his brow lined by a grazed blow. “She is fine!” she
called and turned to Theron. “I am glad she is well, my prince. Aren’t you?”
Theron glanced at her, yet did not respond.
“What a horrid thing if the poor child died! You would have to
find another wife and terminate our contract, now wouldn’t you?”
The prince lifted his chin and faced her. “I have no intentions of
cheating you out of our agreement,” he said. “She is safe because I went after
her—”
“Why were you not by her side in the first place, my prince?”
Countess Primis’s eyes pierced through his shield. “One would think you dislike
our arrangement.”
“I approve of our agreement and contract,” he said through gritted
teeth. “You have no reason to question my loyalty.”
Countess Primis bowed low and stepped back. “Very well, my
prince.” She turned and joined Earl Quinn without another word or look to
Olivia.
Theron’s fists clenched as he shook his head. He turned to
Elshender, his eyes darkened by fury. “Where is Olivia’s bodyguard? Where were
you? I ordered you to watch them!” With a hushed gasp, Krea drew back and wiped
her tears.
Elshender looked at his prince, and then away. “The bodyguard’s
dead, and a werewolf stopped me.”
Theron lifted his chin as his eyes narrowed.
Sobriina approached, her blood-tipped swords still drawn, and a
few cuts slashed across her shoulders and side. “Is my lady safely held?” the
she-elf asked, oblivious to the men’s tension.
Elshender stooped to a knee and lowered his head. “Forgive me, my
lord.”
Theron’s icy gaze did not waver.
Sobriina stopped and bit her tongue.
“Do not punish him, my lord,” Olivia whispered. “He . . . he is a
honorable man.”
Theron gritted his teeth, then sighed and looked away. “Arise.” He
ran his fingers through his hair and stepped back. Elshender stood and bowed to
the couple, looking to Theron as his eyes asked for pardon. Theron nodded ever
so slightly, and his right-hand man turned to attend to the knights and
squires.
“Where is my Nan?” Olivia whispered.
Cedany and Sobriina exchanged looks, their shoulders drooping. “My
lady.” Sobriina laid a hand on her shoulder. “She is at peace and well in the
Land of Eternal Day. I am deeply sorry.”
Theron looked at Olivia and pursed his mouth shut. He stepped
back, for he knew that if he tried to soothe her grief, it would only make
things worse.
Olivia’s brow creased as she looked Sobriina in the eyes, and
turned her gloomy gaze upward. She nodded. “Very well . . .”
Theron’s head cocked to one side and he looked away. Did she
hear Sobriina right? Nan was dead; he had thought Olivia viewed her as a
mother. With a shrug, he cleared his throat. It’s her own way of mourning,
he concluded and turned his attention to his men.
– – –
Savior’s Way continued on and on as though without end. Theron
stared ahead, his hand on his sword and eyes out the window of the wagon. No
one moved as tree after tree passed by. The moans of wounded men rose up now
and then, followed by hushes from their comrades. Sweat glistened from the
horses’ necks as their wide black eyes stared every which way.
A muffled sound drifted from the distance, and all looked ahead in
silence. It was a rhythmic noise that piped up loud then soft. It was joined by
others as they rounded a bend. Theron stared on, and his eyes narrowed. What
was that sound? He had heard it before, long ago, it seemed.
“Birds . . .” Sobriina whispered. He glanced to the Lunaris and
found a smile beaming across her face. “The songs of birds.”
Theron’s hold of his sword relaxed. The trees of Wraith’s Hollow
lessened, and finally gave way to light. Bit by bit, rays of sunshine fought
through the underbrush and cast golden pools on Savior’s Way. A wave of
excitement filled the weary travelers as the world beyond came into view.
The Hilled Country opened up before them. The rolling land’s birds
soared through the air in wide arcs. Shadows yielded to miles and miles of open
green land that met the blue sky with a gentle touch. Creamy clouds wafted
overhead, although those to the west billowed gray and promised rain. Crickets
chirped from the waves of grass, and quail called to one another as they sprang
from their ground nests.
Theron heard Olivia sigh beside him. He looked to her as her body
relaxed, and she sank back against the wagon’s cushion. She half closed her
eyes, and a smile pulled at her rosy lips. Theron leaned back as well, but did
not let go of his sword.
The servants smiled and whispered their relief to one another. The
knights nudged their squires and said they had done well in the dark wood. The
few wounded, who lay on makeshift cots dragged behind the horses, relaxed and
closed their eyes now that they could truly rest. Countess Primis smiled to
herself, and Earl Quinn sat in silence, his eyes directed ahead. Even the
horses lifted their heads and turned their ears forward.
“We shall arrive at Henricien in due time,” Duke Aldret said as he
and the others of nobility sat in the carriage. No one responded, and Olivia
rested against Theron. Sobriina mended a gash in her forearm, and tried not to
flinch as she wiped the blood away.
Olivia turned in her seat and looked out the window back to
Wraith’s Hollow. Her brow was wrinkled and her eyes downcast. She swallowed
hard.
“Are you all right?” Theron asked.
“Oh!” Olivia flinched, then smiled. “Quite . . . I’m fine.”
Theron’s eyes narrowed, though he smiled and rubbed her hand.
“We are all overjoyed for your well-being, my lady.” Sobriina
grinned and nodded. “We must not let our eyes look back. And as for Nan . . .”
Olivia looked down and sighed. “That motherly elder is well and alive in The
Land of Eternal Day. Nay, let us fix our eyes on you and your love. The union
is close at hand.”
“Yes,” Olivia said and ducked her head. She smiled. Theron studied
her complexion. He wondered if it was a real smile.
– – –
Henricien was the most populated city in Tulaun. The city was atop
the southernmost edge of Blue Ridge, the mountainside that jutted from the
northeastern borders toward the Hilled Country. The city itself sat on Riget
Peak, and the cliff was crowned with leafy trees, moss, and flowers. The high
wall of the mountain guarded the eastern city walls and kept attackers at bay.
The Cut, a great mountain river, flowed from the peaks, cut
through rock and land, and curved down through the heart of the city. A great
cliff, Sky Crag, guarded the western wall of Henricien, and The Cut flowed off
its jagged end. It fell from Sky Crag and plummeted down like the thunder of
horses. The waterfall, named Great Wonder, was the most powerful waterfall in
that half of the world.
The city walls loomed high above every traveler, the time-worn
stone face firm against the centuries. Solid battlements loomed on every turn,
and archers leaned over the side, eyes peeled and arrows on their strings. Over
the edge of the wall, the towered heights of the royal castle could be seen.
The sheer road which led to Henricien was watched by men-at-arms
on horseback. Centaurs guarded alongside them; their half-horse, half-man
bodies rippled with each stride. The road, Harnd’s Way, named after the great king
who built it, was customarily filled with travelers. Today, however, people
stood to either side of the road with flowers and colored cloths in their
hands. The road was lined with flags upon high poles, the red fabrics billowing
in the breeze. All waited for the betrothed couple’s arrival.
Lady Olivia looked out the window with a smile that shimmered.
After days of traveling across the Hilled Country, Tulaun’s endless rolling
grasslands, she was ecstatic to at last see Blue Ridge and Henricien towering
gates. Olivia faced Harnd’s Way and eyed each commoner who had come in hopes of
seeing her. A cheer lifted from the mass and they waved their cloths and
flowers. Olivia laughed. “This is quite spectacular!”
“They’re all here for you,” Theron said with a grin.
As they entered the city, bells rang from the highest towers and
proclaimed that the prince and their future queen had come home. The day-to-day
activities had stopped, and the people lined the streets, longing to catch a
glimpse of their prince’s bride. Children and dogs danced before the caravan as
they laughed and shouted to one another. The young women threw flower petals
down upon the street, and many began to play the flute or fiddle. As the wagon
continued, Theron heard shouts of praise from the onlookers.
“Long live the queen!”
“Long life for the two!”
“Blessings! Blessings of love and loyalty!”
“The Wizard be near!”
Olivia smiled at the many people assembled to see her. “They are
wonderful!” she cried with a look to Theron. He grinned and glanced out his own
window. By the time they reached Beating Heart, the royal castle at the center
of Henricien, the entire city was in the streets with shouts, dancing,
laughter, music, and rejoicing. The iron gates to Beating Heart opened, and the
caravan entered its courtyard. The common people stood outside, though their
cheers did not lessen.
The carriages stopped and everyone stepped out with stiff legs.
The horses looked around, though their heads were lowered in relief, knowing
they were home at last. The wounded laughed, some cried, and the castle’s
servants rushed to their aid.
Earl Quinn offered a hand to Countess Primis, but she brushed it
away and stepped out on her own. He shot her a cold look and walked on without
her. Theron helped Sobriina out of the carriage, then Olivia. He watched as she
looked around, mouth open in awe.
“Welcome,” he said, “to your new home.” Most of the Outer
Courtyard’s mud had been dragged away, and the stone buildings had been washed.
Horse stalls lined the wall and fresh, red banners had been hung down the
highest towers.
A host of the most valiant knights, their weapons and armor
polished, stood on either side of the entrance. A crowd of royal men, women,
and a few creatures waited for the couple’s arrival. There were lords and
ladies, advisors, generals, and Seers, each dressed in fine robes of grays and
blues, with reds or greens wound into belts of silver and leather. Veils
drifted behind the women as each eyed Lady Olivia and whispered among
themselves.
In the midst of the throng were two figures, each robed in purple
and gold. Crowns encircled their snowy white heads. The couple was none other
than King Matthias and Queen Ellis. Hard lines curved along these two faces,
though their heads were raised and eyes were directed to the queen-to-be. A
grin blossomed on Queen Ellis’s face and King Matthias’s eyes smiled, though
his mouth did not. The gathering greeted them with faces aglow as servant boys
blew trumpets.
“Welcome home!”
“Prince! Our prince has come!”
“How was the journey?”
“Wraith’s Hollow; oh, that dreadful place! What was it like?”
“Welcome a thousand times!”
“Life was not the same without you, Prince Theron!”
It was a tremendous welcome, indeed.
Theron glanced at his father and the old man looked his way, their
eyes meeting for a brief moment. Theron turned away and cleared his throat as
he held his arm to Olivia. What if he did not approve of Olivia? What if she
was not queenly enough? He shook his head; it did not matter. Olivia mattered.
And how was she? Afraid, no doubt. Terrified to meet her nation’s king and
queen . . .
His eyes widened. Olivia looked at the royal two, smiled, and
lifted her chin high. Theron blinked as he watched her. Countess Primis grinned
and whispered to Earl Quinn. He nodded and eyed Olivia. Theron and Olivia
walked through the throng toward his parents, Olivia’s back straight and eyes
alive. The cheers stilled as they reached them.
“My son,” Queen Ellis said and she walked toward him.
Theron dropped to one knee, took her hand, and kissed it. “Hello,
Mother. It’s nice to be home.” Ellis smiled and smoothed her boy’s hair. King
Matthias listened, but did not move toward his son.
“Oh . . . how I have missed you!” The queen helped him to his feet
and kissed his cheek. Theron glanced at his father; the king sniffed and lifted
his chin. Theron’s eyes darted away and he cleared his throat once more. Queen
Ellis stepped back and turned to Olivia. “And who is this rare find, my son?”
Olivia beamed as the two came together and took hands.
“This, Mother, is Lady Olivia.”
“Charming child—”
“I see why you favor her, boy,” King Matthias said. Theron looked
to him; a muscle in his jaw flexed. “She is pleasant on the eyes. . . .” The
king stroked his white beard with a playful grin. Olivia glanced at him, and
her smile wavered.
“My lord!” Queen Ellis whispered.
Theron grunted and stepped forward. “Father, she is a lady.” His hands,
though held behind him, balled into fists. “She will be treated as such.”
King Matthias turned and faced his son. Their eyes locked. “Oh,
look at that!” King Matthias jabbed a finger into Theron’s chest. “What a
valiant man of honor! Protecting his possessions! And what is your response to
this . . . this loyalty, my girl?”
Olivia glanced at Theron, her eyes smiling still, and looked back
at the king. “That I shall repay the favor in full, my king.”
The women stayed quiet as the men held each other’s gaze. A hushed
murmur rippled through the gathered crowd; it was not the first time the king
and prince had challenged each other. Theron grimaced and looked away. Matthias
held his head high and pulled his eyes from his son. He turned to Olivia and
took her hands with his ringed fingers. “Ah, you shall be a fine daughter. I
know my grandsons will be strong and bold, coming from you. No thanks to this
son of mine . . .”
Theron’s nostrils flared as Matthias kissed Olivia’s hand. The old
man stepped back and turned to Beating Heart’s entrance. “Come.” He walked
toward the castle and the crowd followed. Theron gave him a cold sideways
glance as he passed.
Queen Ellis took her son’s arm and drew close to him. “Do not let
him hinder this happy time,” she whispered and stroked his arm. “He’s just an
old and tired man.”
Theron gritted his teeth; his father had always acted like this.
Had he always been old and tired? Is that what it was to be king? He shook his
head and tried to turn his mind to different matters.
Olivia grabbed his other arm, and Theron escorted his mother and
fiancée up the stone steps to Beating Heart. The assembly made their way with
murmurs and pattering feet. The queen stroked Theron’s arm and turned to Duke
Aldret, who walked behind them. “How was the trek, old friend?”
“What a dreary question.” King Matthias glanced back at his wife,
though she ignored him. “You are aware they were attacked.”
“Eventful, my queen,” Duke Aldret answered plainly.
“And your men?” Queen Ellis looked to Theron. “Casualties?”
Theron nodded. “Three dead, seven wounded—”
“Numbers too low to speak of.” King Matthias stroked his beard.
Theron shot him a cold look. But they are my men,
he thought, though he held his tongue.
“And you, my dear?” Queen Ellis touched Olivia’s hand. “How are
you after such a trying time?”
Olivia turned away, eyes swelling with grief, as she gulped before
replying. “A maid.” Her voice was hushed. “She was dear to me . . .”
Matthias’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at Olivia. “What is she
muttering about?” Theron glared at him.
“I lost a maid.” Olivia shook her head as she blinked back tears.
“Her body was never discovered.”
Ellis’s brow creased with dark lines and she patted the young
girl’s hand. “I’m sorry, love.”
“What creed was this woman?” King Matthias said. “I shall have her
replaced. What was her appearance?”
Olivia looked at him. “Ah . . . She was from Barcen Way. Short.
Dark skin, dark eyes. A wild lock of gray hair. Strong and—”
“The likes of a Wilder!” King Matthias stopped and stared at Earl
Quinn, his eyes narrowed. “You permitted a Wilder into your home! Such a
description is that of Shade Kin!”
“Nay, my king. Never!” Earl Quinn held the old man’s gaze, then
flashed his upon Olivia. She stepped closer to Theron. “Wilders only enter my
gates to be killed! I know the ways of a Wilder; Nan behaved far from their
barbaric habits, my king.”
Sobriina looked between the two men and stepped forward with a
bow. “I do not believe Lady Olivia should speak of such horrid events.” King
Matthias’s dark gaze softened and he stepped back. “Our dear lady has suffered
a traumatic experience and I suggest that she not be questioned on such
matters, with all due respect, my lord and king.”
Olivia nodded and looked down. “Indeed.” Her voice was low and frail
as she glanced between Sobriina and King Matthias. “I would approve of that.”
King Matthias lifted his chin. “Very well, my daughter.” He nodded
his snowy head. “None shall speak of it, and you shan’t have to share.”
“Thank you greatly.”
They entered the Great Hall, the towering stone walls adorned with
detailed tapestries and hides of wild animals, ancient weapons gleaming in the
firelight and men-at-arms posted periodically. Servants rushed to and fro, and
the hall gave way to room after room, each furnished with finery and items
handcrafted by delicate fingers. Fire licked from the torches and several
fireplaces throughout the castle. For the moment, the constant chill had
subsided.
“Well,” Queen Ellis said as they continued walking, “to lighten
the spirits, supper will be ready shortly.” She smiled and looked at Theron and
Olivia. “And there is to be entertainment such as your youthful eyes have never
seen!”
Olivia smiled and giggled.
“I would like that,” Theron said.
“As would I!” Olivia nodded with a childish grin.
Queen Ellis’s smile grew.
“After the betrothal details are settled,” Earl Quinn muttered.
“Yes? We still must discuss the contract. It shan’t take long, for it is a
simple trade. This girl and one of my armies for royal titles and more land.”
Kind Matthias nodded irritably and turned to the she-elf.
“Mistress Sobriina, you are still responsible for this fair maiden’s needs.”
“Your wish is my command.” She bowed. Olivia beamed, though her
eyes did not. She looked away without a word.
“Very well, daughter,” King Matthias said and took Olivia’s
delicate hands into his veiny, speckled grasp. Theron lifted his chin and
wanted to move his father away from his bride. “We shall see one another at
supper.”
“At supper.” Olivia grinned.
“At supper,” Theron murmured. They parted, and Theron escorted
Olivia to her room. Sobriina, Krea, Cedany, and the other servants who carried
Olivia’s belongings walked close behind.
Theron closed his eyes and took in a sharp breath. He told himself
to forget his father and forced a smile. “They like you,” he whispered.
“I am pleased, my prince,” Olivia said as they passed through a
vast hall and climbed stairs. A stone lion sat with its eyes closed at the head
of the stairwell.
“Will you wish to bathe, my lady?” Sobriina asked.
“Yes, um . . . with a vial of fine oil.”
Theron’s eyes narrowed and he glanced at her. “Whatever for?”
“It helps my skin.” Olivia looked up at him and smirked. She
seemed to be amused by her words, but he did not know why. “It must be smooth
and kept rightly. You understand.”
“Yes . . .” They walked on in silence until they entered Olivia’s
chamber. She gasped and laid a hand on her chest as her eyes darted from the
fine bed to the golden candlesticks, to the small stained-glass window.
Theron watched her with enjoyment. “Like it?” he asked.
“Very much so! Thank you, forever and a day!” Olivia stepped
closer to him and grabbed his shirt collar. Theron’s eyes widened as she drew
him close and kissed him. Krea and Cedany smiled and looked away, though they
stole a few peeks. Mistress Sobriina stood and stared, her eyes hard and her
lips a thin line.
Olivia finally withdrew and breathed out in a rush. Theron’s heart
pounded through his whole being. They looked one another in the eyes and Olivia
ran her fingers through his hair. “See you at supper,” she whispered and drew
back. Words eluded Theron as he stepped away, his eyes fixed on her. He shut
the door behind him, a smile alive in his eyes.
Olivia sighed when the door shut. She turned and noticed Sobriina’s
watchful gaze, her smile morphing to a darkened stare. “My bath.”
Sobriina lifted her chin and eyed the lady. Olivia smirked and
turned toward the full-length mirror of polished metal hanging on the wall. A
muscle in Sobriina’s jaw clenched. “It will be prepared.” She walked toward the
door. “And . . . your oil.”
Olivia did not respond as she stood in different poses before the
mirror. Krea and Cedany watched their lady, their heads tilted at an angle.
Olivia saw their stares and shot a cold look at them. “Get out.” The two women
stepped back. “Go!” Olivia waved a hand at them. “Shoo! Shoo!” The two servants
left the room in a heartbeat.
Olivia heaved a breath as she listened to the silence in the room.
She scratched her forearm and turned back to the mirror with a grin and a lift
of her chin. She ran her hand along her throat, chest, and side. She cupped her
breasts and turned this way and that to see them better. She chuckled and
nodded her head. “They’re good-sized, all right,” she muttered. “Give something
for that lad to think of.”
She scratched her forearm again and stepped closer to the mirror.
With squinted, focused eyes, she inspected her nose and gingerly folded down
her ear. A shadow crossed her brow and she growled. Pale stitch marks crisscrossed
behind her ear along her skull. “Cursed skinner! Clumsy bonehead!” She shook
her head and stepped back, her eyes fixed on her ear.
Olivia muttered under her breath and looked away. She shook her
head and glanced down at her forearm to scratch it. She hesitated and turned
away with a heavy sigh. She walked to the bed and threw herself across it. With
a deep moan, she grinned and closed her eyes, nestling into the blankets and
breathed in the freshly made cloth. This was for her, all for her!
She could get used to this.
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“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7
Our hearts are fragile.
Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.
Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.
If you have any comments, critiques, or concerns, please comment below!!!
