Palomar~
Daranuthan o’Brynmohr
The Mew, Aleron
Dara excused himself early from dinner that night. Madelyn was sullen and short-tempered. Father’s attempts to elicit even the slightest eagerness about her pledging grated on Dara’s nerves until he could sit still for it no longer.
The pledging was a mistake. She wasn’t ready. She would never be ready.
Dara retreated to the stables. The moon was full, and Ruin was restless to hunt. Beyond the walls of Twelvestones, shepherds tended flocks sufficient to keep the hillfort’s gwynwulves fed, but a gwynwulf grew finicky if too much time passed without feasting on a kill felled with its chosen nene.
Dara hunted far afield and late into the night, passing by lesser game with the intention of finding elk or boar to challenge his bow’s steadines
