Barrow Fields While we walk the pilgrim pathway

for a spell nothing but the wind spoke for them. the balmy air raked along the back of her neck, stirring her cinnamon ruff.

when the man spoke again, there was a finality to his voice that suggested conclusion. though she refused to give her name, sobeille was proud of her pack’s fierceness and offered it unconditionally.

saffique. an’ you can be havin’ de fish.

she pushed it towards him noncomittally. have it, or don’t — but she would be back later that night to see if he’d wisely left it where it stood in the sand.