When the person with a chokehold on your soul says, “Jump,” you pack your parachute and hope for a soft landing.
Jamie WymanTags: c cat-sharp eris trickster-gods
His skin like grey bark, his eyes pale as a winter pool, time and age had worn my father to the bone. In our youth, he’d been a strict master lording over my lessons while tender with the flower of his heart, my sister Anabine. Ana, the lovely, blooming jewel. Zyndel, she of clever wit.
Jamie WymanTags: fantasy the-clever-one zyndel
Magic pants?”
“Without them I’m starkers,” he mused. “Shall I show you?”
“No, I think I prefer the pants.
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