Just a story that came to me that demanded to be written down. This would have taken place within a month of Belonging Place.
Ages for this story: Smellerbee: 8; Longshot: 11; Jet: 13
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Wild Child 06: Cold Comfort
They smelled the village long before they saw it.
Jet Smellerbee said to the older boy in a tight voice, her hand already drifting to the kukri at her back.
Jet nodded, his eyes immediately going to the third member of their party.
Longshot had already notched an arrow to his bow; he had only traveled with Smellerbee and Jet for a month, but the trio already functioned as a unit. They moved off into the gr
Summary: A short life, summed up in half-forgotten memory. Sympathy for the devil.
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Chronicle
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I was born in the dead of winter (the coldest winter in one hundred thirty years).
My mother used to say spring came early for her that year. My father would smile and say he remembered having to hack out a tunnel in the snowdrifts that piled outside our door for several months after.
I said my first word (Mama) when I was one.
My mother used to say I was the smartest baby in the world. My father would smile and say he remembered her coaching me for hours, days, and weeks on en