THE DRY WELL 9

The land of IssKor

Things continue to come together pretty well, though I suspect the cats are not too happy with the amount of time I’m spending in that silly room upstairs when I could be huddling on the sofa with them. They did have one treat this morning, when I opened one side of the french window for the first time since winter descended, and they popped out for a constitutional. Hope this is setting a trend, and I can start pottering in the garden one the book is published.

Here’s a taster for you;

Both men moved forward and saw that the light was washing down through a cloud of green leaves high above. Tall trunks as straight as spears and fat as seven fat men standing together rose up so high that neither could see as far as the leaves without craning his neck fiercely.
They looked down again, and Raðenn said, ‘Where in Skorn are we? How did we get here?’
Then Mal-Den cried, ‘The door! Raðenn, the door!’
Both ran towards the curved wall and beat
upon it with their hands. The door had vanished, and as they stepped back and stared, the entire building shimmered and was gone. Where it had been were more and more of the huge trees, spread out further than their eyes could see.
‘Now what do we do?’ asked Raðenn.

forest

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