I’d told my queen ten years back that Lammyr were nesting in this glen. It wasn’t like her to be complacent but the dark hollow in the hills was many miles from her caverns, and besides, she knew they were afraid of me. And her indifference had infected me, and I’d put off the work, unwilling to argue my case when there were other tasks to be handled, more congenial quarrels to settle. She’d left it too long, and so had I, and now the creatures would be all the harder to prise from their hole. It was a good day for it: by which I mean it was silent and still and as grey as death. I should say, it was an appropriate day. As far as approaching the Lammyr unheard and unseen, it was the worst we could have picked. ~ Griogair, said Niall Mor MacIain. I glanced across to where he crouched, silent, at one of the cavern entrances. It was no more than a slit in the rock, black and dank, the cold breath of underground seeping from it like marsh gas. The gods knew how deep it was, or where it led, but Niall’s sword blade was bare and he couldn’t repress half a smile; he’d been longing for this.
What do You think about FROST CHILD (Rebel Angels)?
