The website of Allene R. Lowrey
The scorched weed stood, accusing, before them. “Show me what you drew, exactly.” Melja’s voice was more serious than Einarr had ever heard. Einarr peered at the base of the weed, searching for his mark, but in their haste to stop the blaze it had been obscured. “It was sol, with five points. I will…
Yesterday, when I ordinarily would have been writing today’s chapter, was once again eaten up by traveling. I will try to post something later today, if I can get anything done while waiting at the clinic. Don’t let anyone try to sell you on socialized medicine. I’m going to be spending today during at the…
Today was spent in airports and taxis. I am now ensconced at our hotel, with a fussy baby and a coughing spouse – and nothing written. For now, here is some art sent to me by the talented William Eyster, who has been doing cover work for me.
As agreed, Einarr rose with the sun the next morning and was promptly set to work gathering eggs and drawing water. When that was done there were goats to milk, and Mira quite cheerfully set him to building up the hearth fire while she prepared breakfast for the three of them. Einarr did the work…
The light had dimmed from its lustrous gold by the time Ystävä led Einarr out of the trackless wood and onto a broad path – broad enough that a wagon could be driven down it at need, if barely. The sky had turned the white of early dusk, and from the trees about them he…
Their farewells said, with a smile and a wave Einarr turned away from his family to face Ystävä and the Whispering Wood and they started off down the trail. The alfr offered no conversation, but Einarr was content to enjoy the cool summer morning in quiet. They passed into the shade of the forest, and…
With some reluctance, the Matrons of the Conclave invited in the alfr calling himself ‘friend’ to sit in their hall and discuss the matter. They were very specific as to the terms of the invitation – so much so that Einarr questioned Saetild’s assertion that he was merely a good-natured pest. There was a comfortable…
On the morrow, with only a sip of ale to counter the festivities of the night before and while his father proved new recruits, Einarr followed Saetild, the friendliest and least tree-like of the Matrons, down the path through the Whispering Woods. As lovely as the wood first appeared, Einarr felt the hairs on the…