
“I was hidden in an alder copse when I sensed her again, that watcher in the woods.
I could hear the muted whisper of her footsteps sliding softly on rotten leaves and old mulch, smell the scent of lavender and mint. I wondered if she was holding a bow on me, an arrow nocked and ready.”
— from the novel SINFUL FOLK
Published on January 31, 2014 07:01