Whispers Above

Listen closely to the whispering

Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.

Breward hesitated on the edge of the park. The leaves’ edges glowed in the morning light which had yet to find its wat over the city wall. Nor did the thud of soldier in formation reach her there. She grasped the hilt at her side, twisting the familiar melt and leather. She should be with them. Not here.

But Elder Mother had rousted her, yanking covers, and squawking about listening. “Listen closely to the whispering.” Breward was convinced the woman was raving mad, prattling on about listening as the woman’s din filled the room while she chased Breward out. However, ignoring her will was foolishness.

So Breward stared at empty paths. Who was she supposed to be listening to? She strode forward. The sooner she could locate whatever whispers she was to find the sooner she could ride for the columns.

Shadows clung to paths created by a myriad of bushes which hid no one. She reached the center of the park, a square edged by trees spanning high above. The lowest branches were too high to grasp. Breward stopped yanking her hair back from her face, she wrapped her hands around the back of her neck and stopped.

The morning breeze rushed by, rattled the branches, and knocked the leaves into each other. A soft sound that raised her head. Staring up Breward watched the play of light above and listened as the trees whispered. Whispers from roots deep and branches high. Whispers of what was coming.

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