Lark Rising (Guardians Of Tarnec) - Plot & Excerpts
I’d seen this earlier; I suppose it is habit from traversing the hills of Tarnec with their narrow and treacherous paths. We were strung along the Cullan foothills like beads adorning a garment, a green garment that stretched on in all directions. Sitting higher now than when I first walked this route, I was even more aware of the vast expanse of rolling land punctuated here and there with the bits of jutting boulders and stone slabs. It was still as bleak. Twig had been quizzing me incessantly since we began our ride. He’d asked of Merith, of my family, of my friends. He’d asked about the village elders and the fox and Ruber Minwl’s hand. He’d insisted on knowing the herbs Grandmama grew and how many ghisane I’d ripped in the early days of summer; when I’d sewn the pack he sat in, what we ate for supper, and whether I combed my hair with wood or shell. All these things in no particular order, all in annoying, exhausting, and overly specific detail; Twig ate up the information as if it were food and he were starved.
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