Sif watched him sneakily. Weariness showed in his face. He looked like a rope pulled almost to breaking. She wondered if she looked the same. Suddenly, it hit her: of all the people in the world, she knew nobody as … Continue reading
“What does it mean for us?” said Alfhilde. Falthejn looked away, lips pressed together. After a moment, he said, “I may miss others, or perhaps see those who will not be there. I can be certain about one thing, at … Continue reading
On the far bank, Falthejn stepped onto the rope. His foot slipped, and he caught himself on the hand line before making his way out over the river. Sif stifled the urge to cheer him on, wondering briefly where it … Continue reading
Sif looked on in wonderment. Alfhilde floated smoothly over the edge of the water, stock still, as though she were standing on solid ground. She reached the far bank as quickly as she would have by walking, then fell to … Continue reading
Alfhilde tucked the knife into her boot, then found the ends of the rope and set about tying one to a stout tree which leaned out toward the far bank. Falthejn knelt and did the same. He tested his knot, … Continue reading
They came to the end of a gentle rise, and the abrupt change in the terrain struck Falthejn, as it always did when he traveled this part of the world. He stopped. Before them was a steep descent, the road … Continue reading
Fifteen minutes saw them to the base of the gorge. As they descended, they could, at intervals, see the river between the trees. As the road drew alongside it, its rapid, turbulent flow became evident. Grevdarsflod ran in a course … Continue reading
They came to the end of a gentle rise, and the abrupt change in the terrain struck Falthejn, as it always did when he traveled this part of the world. He stopped. Before them was a steep descent, the road … Continue reading
“Why?” Sif said, brow furrowed. Falthejn shrugged. “Nobody knows for sure. To some degree, the very fact that a thing exists means that it has a weave-shape, and no thing—well, few things, and none we should name here—has a weave-shape … Continue reading
Sif blinked, head canted. “A shirt?” she ventured timidly. “Yes.” “I don’t know what you mean.” Falthejn gestured to his arm. “The sleeve of my tunic is a piece of cloth. That cloth is the structure. The greenness of my … Continue reading
