“Er,” Shyan says, looking to Cang for backup. “We don’t really know her name…”
“She’s got a retainer named Old Mossy,” Fassn adds. “His beard is like mine,” he says, brushing at the wiry grey hairs with his fingers.
“Petite grey creature,” Cang says. “Her people shoot darts from the shadows coated with poison.”
“And the poison gives you—” here Shyan catches herself, and course corrects, subtly, saying, “—gives you bad dreams.”
The flutist cocks and eyebrow. “Bad dreams?”
“The worst.”
Logan Bright — Works 