I Know Not (The Story Of Fox Crow) - Plot & Excerpts
Well, that’s not true: it flowed from everywhere, it was just the brow that kept my eyes full of stinging droplets, so it was most noticeable. It was early, predawn, too early for most people which suited me just fine. I was making music. The straw packed hard mats were quiet underfoot, but not so quiet they completely muffled the percussion of my feet as I danced. Voices reached tongues from the fog, tickling my internal ears with half remembered lessons. The Phantom Angel was a lonely falsetto, singing in my hands as possessed by the souls of the elves that forged it. The burn in my muscles was a silent chorus that tried to drown out the fire of my humiliation. The symphony built and waned, climaxed to crashing crescendos and faded to deadly diminuendos. It was flawless, flawless but in vain. Still I pushed, harder and faster. Then, there it was, an opening in the defenses of my imaginary foe. A hunger blossomed inside and I leapt to the imagined kill. A final thrust vibrated in the air, the thunderous echoes of future violence fading from inside my mind.
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