Ficlets

The Truth About the Cottage

“Just an owl, Snowstar, nothing to be afraid of,” I patted Snowstar’s neck. My horse didn’t seem to think it was an ordinary owl. While we passed the tree the great bird was perched on, she shied away and started neighing the forest down.

The owl gave a screech, and a harsh glare. Then it flew at me, brandishing its long talons. I whipped out my dagger and cut it a glancing blow at the side of a wing.

Hobbling and limping, the owl flew away unevenly.
“Sorry for misjudging you, Snowstar,” I patted my mare’s head and scratched her withers. Snowstar snorted.

We continued through the woods. I saw a light glimmering up ahead. It must be the Abode of the Twelve Months.

Sioni couldn’t be in there. Not possibly.

Not in the house of murderers.

This story has no comments.