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“Sure you won’t have a quick dip in the lake—it’ll purify, too, thanks to Lady Lake—before putting on my spare tunic?” Holding the garment in one hand, Ferah gazed at her brother, breathing through her mouth; he’d been picking off the remaining flaps of molting skin and holding them up to let the breeze catch and carry them away.
“No thanks,” Montay chuckled wearily, adding “Let’s think of this as an offering to her majesty, the great feminine spirit…”
Thunder rolled and the sky darkened from the north channel across the bay as Ferah noted, “Yeah, somehow, I don’t think she appreciates that as an offering.”
“I think she knows what I’ve been through, and how lost I’ve been, and I’m thoroughly convinced that she has a sense of humor…” He rose and slapped the scrap of burlap over one shoulder, “…but just in case, will you go down to the water with me while I scrub this crap off?”
Ferah took the sudden cessation of thunder and clearing of the sky, and the good humor in her brother’s voice as signs that all of what Montay had said was true, so she nearly skipped with joy following him over to the stairs that led down to the shore, calling back, “Leave him a good bit of the proteins, boys, and we’ll be back in a splash!”
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2026)
(To be continued)
Yeah! (clapping my hands) Yeah!
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