Date: 2011-11-30 01:42 pm (UTC)From: [identity profile] bornofbattle.livejournal.com
There was a thin blade's edge of silver on the far mountain, the moon beginning to make it's nightly ascent. Soon he would know, the pull of the full moon's face making many men into monsters before the night was out. Soon he would know if his guest were one of them.

Lost and flirting? She seemed not to fear his presence any more than she feared the coming of midnight. Not normal, this beautiful young woman with dark eyes and darker, flowing mane of hair. This woman who wore a warrior's garb. The peasants, the tribes - villages - around here were full of sheep disguised as men. She was made of different stock.

A warrior then, and - wait. Or a sorceress perhaps? Hmm, that was something to dwell on for a few long, silent moments. Perhaps. But good Cimmarian steel could end wizardly curses as well as it could cut through fur and flesh.

"I mean what I say, or I'd not say it. Are you lost?" There was a village a half day back, and it would not be out of his way overmuch to bring her out of the wilderness and back to some less lonely, treacherous place.
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November 2011

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