Feb 22, 2012

Woe to the Kings of Glimmershade

The forest is a sea of thorns that ebb and flow; the city is an egg, ringed by hopeless porcelain walls. 
It was Gael’s first night as sentry and already the flesh-eating woodsmen howled.

“Best you chew the leaves now,” said Gael’s senior, Das. “Won’t be no time for naps tonight.” 

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