Sunday, January 17, 2010

Snippet of an unfolding tale (Third Person IC == Corinda)

...It didn’t happen every year, but in the harsh winters, sometimes, mother would not wake, even as her breath rose and fell in a steady but slow rhythm. There was no sign, no warning, least of all for the Meliad who simply thought herself to be lying down for the night.

Some seasons, she avoided the long slow sleep, by taking on the Centaur form her sister blessed her with, but by the time she did so this year, the color of her skin shouldhave hinted, that it might have been too late.

Centarette

But of all things this family had, the most abundant thing they had was hope in all things. In this case, there was hope they caught it in time.

The next morning, the father looked at his son, and they knew what must be done. So the budding young sailor Avry took his mother Corinda to a special place to hibernate. Where her sleep would be hastened by warmer winds, and left his father behind with his sister, knowing the two of them could look after one another, even if one may still be too small to understand...


... and the story goes on.

(The less fictional explaination can befound one post below, or here.)

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