A DOVE GLIMPSE: LISTENING TO BRAEVEN (Patreon)

LISTENING TO BRAEVEN

The outlaws came down on the camp like a silent racing storm, wasting no wind on battle cries.

More than a dozen, hard-eyed, their motley armour much scorched from when it had been fire-cooked to drive off maggots from the dead it had been taken from. Tired eyes, above blades held in hands capable and ready.

Dove strolled out alone to face them, not bothering to go for a helm or a shield, ignoring the wails of fear from around her, and the frantic fleeing.

They spurred down the slope, growing smiles and sneers as they came.

And then, as they got a good look at the woman, they wavered, and reined in or aside, their mounts snorting and kicking in surprise at such sudden curbing.

Dove arched a sardonic eyebrow as she met fearful gazes. There was shocked recognition on their faces. Her hair, of course.

*Please find the full transcript in *.txt and *.docx formats attached to this post