Publisher's Synopsis
Wife.
Daughter.
Warder.
Wasn't it?
-x-
He tried to open his eyes to look at his hands. Failed. Didn't matter anyway, as there was yet more cloth covering his eyes. A waste. He was dead anyway. A corpse that still had the misfortune of drawing in breath. Of possessing a heart that still beat. He drew in a ragged breath. It should have hurt. But it must have been another potion. The one pulling him toward the dark. Promised rest and healing if he would succumb. There was no healing from this. No mending. Honeyed words from those who had never burned. He opened his mouth. A cry. A scream. Yet he made no sound. Couldn't. Not to tell. Not to warn. Of what had come to their mountain. What he'd seen. Before... Well. Before.
