This morning, Tegus welcomed me again with an arm clasp and cheek touch. I wasn't startled this time, and I breathed in at his neck. How can I describe the scent of his skin? He smells something like cinnamon-- brown and dry and sweet and warm. Ancestors, is it wrong for me to imagine laying my head on his chest and closing my eyes and breathing in his smell?
Shannon HaleShe closed the book and put her cheek against it. There was still an odor of a library on it, of dust, leather, binding glue, and old paper, one book carrying the smell of hundreds.
Shannon HaleWhen the mountain quaked Like an elbow's nudge Like a shout that something is wrong The people awoke and Knew, yes, knew, that bandits had come
Shannon HaleNo small thing, a bee's sting When it enters the heart Not so benign, the growing vine When it tears stone apart
Shannon HaleAnd new, too. Remade. Ready to move again. Listening was the start, she decided. Doing was the next step.
Shannon Hale