Well, I'm sorry. Four in a day is a lot. But I really want to catch up, so..yup. I promise I'll slow down soon. Anyway, this one is actually the first installment of a really old story. I lied when I said I wouldn't go farther back than last month. But I won't do it much. I just like this one. I doubt I'll ever finish it...but whatever.

An Old Story.

Here's the text, if your mouse is broken and you can't click the link. I know otherwise you definitely would, am I right????

In the swirling black mists of night, two hunters pause. The first, a young woman with short, cropped black hair and eyes gray as the mist mountains, sheathed her bloodstained knife. this knife, in case you were wondering, was not a slim, lethal knife with a carved bone handle and perfectly balanced for throwing. No, this was a cabbage knife, perfectly balanced for cutting cabbage, and not much else. But beggars can’t be choosers, thought the woman with a grimace, as she surveyed her victim. The victim, or, in this case, the bandit charged with stealing her Liege's  crown, seal ring, ceremonial knife, and many other such valuables, lay dead on her back, with a slit throat. The assassin, for that was of course, what she was, looked down at the woman. she was a perfectly average looking woman, with short brown hair and gray/blue eyes. Tyra Silt felt a stab of pity for her. she shook herself. This woman, Shawna Lee, was a spy for the Lortanian empire. Tyra turned her back and returned to the city.

The second hunter, a boy named Lark Avis, crouched in the bracken. His goal was of more mundane purpose. He stealthily crept through the under growth, as silent as a leopard stalking impala. A rabbit, big as a house cat, sat twitching it’s ears at the wind and nibbling grass.
Lark shifted, and the rabbit sat up, eyes wide, nose twitching, trying to detect enemies.
At that moment, Lark sprang, his small, strong body twisting like a cat’s as he landed with his hands on the rabbits neck. He twisted, and the rabbit went limp. Sighing, Lark got up, slung the rabbit over his shoulder, and headed toward home, the small village of Arin. On the outskirts of the city, Arin was populated with hunters from all over, as the surrounding woods held all kinds of prey, such as white stags, owlbears, and worgs. The area where Lark hunted, and most of the villagers who were simply hunting for food, was relatively safe. As he headed home, Lark was singing.
That night, after dinner,(stewed rabbit with potatoes) Lark was up in his room, practicing his voice.  Tomorrow was the day he would be chosen by a mentor for his apprenticeship to the city.
there were lots of choices; this year had had few children, and all the mentors needed a new apprentice. He was hoping to be chosen by Sir Balgor, the music master. Lark had always admired him, and had wanted to be his apprentice since he knew what music was. Lark was mostly a singer, he knew how to play piano, and flute, but was best at singing in his soft, crooning tenor. Sadly, he thought, he was probably going to be chosen by Lord Foldar, The lord of the city, and head of the king’s army. Lord Foldar had to take the children who didn’t qualify for anyone else, so as compensation, he also got first pick. Lark’s parents were both military officers stationed outside the city as an elite police force. Lark had inherited his mothers
Were cat reflexes, and his fathers ruthlessness when fighting. He actually didn’t have any interest in fighting. He was good at it though, and would almost certainly not be picked for Bolgar when he was so good at fighting. restlessly tossing, he fell asleep. Tyra sat and watched the moon make it’s way across the star-crossed sky.




Right, that's it. Done for today....I hope.