Dweranad

With her faded dress and worn shoes
Another Wednesday, another flash fiction. Enjoy the story!

Rain pelted my face as I examined the clouds. “The sun’s up there somewhere,” Criawan said hiding under her own cloaks hood. I grunted my response.

I hated sullen days, and this trip had seen its share, but we were winding our way down the switchbacks to Dweranad.

We’d be there soon.

Dweranad. I examined the building trying to ignore the dizzying feeling. Squat, I decided. Squat and ugly. And small. Was she really there? I let the horse’s pace nibble at the distance.

My clothing was a sodden mess when we halted at the gates, dismounting. Tearing at my pack, I struggled with the ties but won and retrieved the package.

Criawan placed a hand on my arm as I looked back at the group. “It’s time.”

With a nod I turned away to the door. Head straight, I refused to look back and check my party. Glaytlan was there though, I knew when his staff hit the door.

The door swung inward, not even a creak to mark its movement.

A woman stood there. The color was leeched from her dress and her shoes looked ready to retire. Not the vision of strength I had been hoping for. But it was her. Strength, grace, and wisdom shown through. As did . . . I couldn’t say what. Perhaps some pain that never abated?

I shook my head falling to my knees. “Aberalind, we beseech you,” I said proffering the gift. She looked at the stone and frowned.

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