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Kin-strife for Christmas
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In the Blind Night

“Cursed squalling!”

Violins screech in The Moon-high Wharf, hurrying the two Pelargir guards along their night watch. A quick eye and light cast down alleys for troubl—

Something towhead freezes.

“Hoi!” Haldarion calls. The boy shrinks back, trembling. Haldarion grabs an arm – hard – shakes, demanding, “What's your business? Well? Speak up!”

“Hal.” His partner intervenes; the boy wisely flees.

“What? Little Longneck lice–”

“He's mute,” Ambarin interrupts. “Harmless. Lives back of somewhere” – he gestures towards The Bottle – “with his sister.”

Haldarion eyes Ambarin speculatively. “Sister, eh?” Ambarin says naught. His partner snorts, then claps his shoulder. “Fine. Let's go!”


Prompt: bottle, wharf, violin, moon


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