War Front, Book Five

The snow was melting. Azzir had heard it all last night, tik, tik, tikking as it dropped from the boughs of the fir trees onto the tents and metal roofs of the fort. He imagined little rivulets of snowmelt flowing under the dying snow, like the blood through his legs. Sluggish. Unresponsive. Cold and unfeeling.

“You shouldn’t have pushed it, you know,” said Gaolyf. “I told you once, I told you a thousand times, you keep walking on them legs, you’re going to lose them. Well now, you have, and now you’re going home.” Continue reading “War Front, Book Five”

War Front, Book Four

The Pahmar-Raht had been left tied up in the wire-topped round pen, water and food a tantalizing claw’s length away. She pressed her nose against the wire, licking at the morning dew lining it, but it was not nearly enough to quench her thirst.

The dark elf was hovering nearby again. Always watching, that one. She bared her teeth at him warningly, but he knew as well as she did there was a barrier between them, and it was all just a bluff. She growled deep in her throat as the dark elf put his hands up against the wires, wishing her long fangs could reach through to pierce his foolish flesh. The reek of alcohol clung to her nostrils as he leaned closer, and she turned away from him in disgust.

“I know what you are,” said the dark elf. The Khajiit didn’t honor him with an acknowledgement, though it sent a thrill up her back that set her tail to twitching. “You know what I’m saying, don’t you? You’re not a lion. You’re not even an animal.” Continue reading “War Front, Book Four”

War Front, Book Two

How does Azzir manage to do farrier work when he has a bad back? Don’t ask me. The scene wrote itself. I swear!

Author’s Note

“Hey, ashskin! I’ve got a treat for you.”

Azzir looked up, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The horse he was shoeing shifted experimentally, and Azzir hiked its hoof up a little further between his legs. A few futile pumps of the leg later, it sighed and relaxed, and Azzir did also, shifting his grip down the leg.

“I’m a little busy,” he told the Nord looking at him from between the slats of the blacksmith shed.

“Naw, but this is a treat you can’t miss,” said Gaolyf. “They captured one of those Khajiit cat beasts in from the front. Continue reading “War Front, Book Two”