Activity

@denali-christianson

Yila gasped again, trying desperately to get air in her lungs. Curse this blasted asthma!

*Hurls an inhaler at Yila* Ah, that sucks!! That’s such a cool thing to add to your characters though!

OoOoH! Poisoning!! *Cackles in maniacal delight* I love a good poison. *Hides search history and manuscripts.* Not that I’d… ever do that… in my books. Never. *Cough*

I can’t wait to see where you go with this!

Acyn

Quin crashed against me, leaving his crutch behind. It was a clever plan, using it to get up.

I assessed the situation. Sahar was alright for now, but Quin needed my help first.

I offered my hand and pulled him up. I squinted up at the crutch. It wasn’t that high, Quin had almost had it.

At least Liorah had taught me one useful thing. She used to struggle to get on her mare, back before she’d grown tall enough, and used to coerce me into helping her up.

I cupped my hands and gestured upward. Quin caught my drift and placed his knee in my hands. On the count of three, I boosted him up and he grabbed the crutch. It was just close enough for whoever was up there to help him up. Okay, that was progress.

The crack was gaping wider, and the wall was getting closer.

Lorcan probably would have stabbed me if I’d suggested helping him, so I turned to Sahar.

“Come on, leave Azar, she’ll be fine,” I lied.

Sahar glared at me as if I’d suggested a murder. No, probably more. She laughed when I suggested murder.

“I’d rather leave you,” she hissed.

“Come on, I’ll help you up.”

Sahar hesitated, then sheathed her dagger. She was on the point of picking up Azar when the dog wiggled free and bolted toward the wall.

“Azar! You stupid– come back!” I called.

Azar acted as though she hadn’t heard me and barked at the wall, as though determined to protect us from it.

“Here, girl,” Sahar coaxed.

Azar, usually so flawlessly obedient, didn’t listen.

I groaned.

“He didn’t teach the dog to respond to her name, remember?”

Ferran’s mother was deaf, and they communicated with a form of sign language. It came more naturally to him, and that was how he had trained Azar. And in the process had somehow forgotten that it might be needed for other people to call his brainless dog.

“Do you know how to call her?” Sahar asked, dubiously.

I rolled my eyes again, and Sahar got the message.

She darted off and scooped up the dog, then rushed back to me. Getting the dog and Sahar up was going to be quite a task and I sighed in advance.

This was not going well.

____

Oh, I completely forgot to mention that Azar is a middle-sized, reddish-brown sheepdog type. She actually came with my previous characters but got left behind.