Aeonian: Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Two
We sat reading by the light of candles in Martha’s room that night as the storm howled about us. Blythe, now dried, his fur still sticking up partially with dampness, perhaps partially with fear, sat purring softly in his dreams on one of the chairs near the fire. Every now and then he stretched as one dream ended and another began, elo…
