Late spring, Forlindon, a year ago
Somewhere out there, an owl cried.
Earcalie snorted, sat alone on the porch of her house, trying to understand from where the cry was coming. The porch was almost all in the shadow, lit only by the flickering light of a lantern hanged onto a beam, already on the way to extinguish by itself. The elleth didn’t care if it was extinguishing.