Larksong Grotto Ankärr

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her voice made light work of his heavier name. it sounded well there, and she did not evince so much unsurety with speaking. but he was still careful to keep his movements gentle. deliberate.

"ayovi." forever in his accent would its first syllable be a lowered voice, a rumble in a ruined city, extending somewhat before the remainders followed.

exiled man gestured to his side, then to her bison-marks, and then to the plains. to himself. to the plains. to her. "skorpa vil tage ayovi med til, ah — bigsky," he tried, running what he had not heard was two words into one sound. would it be good enough trade? her protection for the life she had given?

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