Weaving Tales

Sparhawk had been thinking about Poem a lot. More than a lot, really. She was in his every waking thought. The man was... more than a little enamored with the dark marked woman. She had thoroughly entranced him and he couldn't bear to be away from her for any longer. So he prepared their next meeting. He only hoped that she would say yes to coming away with him for a night. Just one little night, then he'd take her back to her family.

In preparation, Sparhawk found the perfect place. He Cut down a circle of grass in the center of one little clearing. He built a small ring of rocks and prepared wood for a fire. He stacked extra wood nearby because he knew they'd need it. He didn't have dinner for them yet, but was intent on finding something on their way back so it would be fresh. The man spread out the thick bearskin that he used to cart his belongings in. Everything looked perfect. All that was left to do was get the girl.

The redwood man went to the borders of Abaven and howled for Poem. He was ready to see her and tell her of his plans. He was ready to spend the night with her again and touch her and kiss her... Okay, he was getting way ahead of himself. Time to reign it in.

With the howl released, Sparhawk sat patiently beneath one of the trees lining the border. It kept him out of the high noon sun. By the time they made it to the clearing that he'd prepared, it would almost be dark. The perfect time to light a fire and talk.

WC-283