Read A Feather on the Breath of Ellulianaen Page 12

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  Meanwhile, Hinfane was dragging Zhallad’s body toward the storeroom, without really knowing why, for she thought him dead. There was a wetness on her cheeks and she realised she was weeping. His torso bumped down the stone steps and hit the dirt floor of the storeroom with a great thump, and Hinfane winced. She told herself he felt nothing.

  But then she noticed a mist above Zhallad’s handsome, half-open mouth, a slight vapour in the cold air – he was breathing! She could hardly believe her eyes. Looking through wet eyes she found a blanket that had been keeping some mead-barrels warm, wrapped him in it, and then ran out of the tavern through the back door that she had left ajar.

  She sprinted off to the grove of trees, mumbling as she ran, “King of the gryphons, let the gryphon be there! King of the gryphons, let the gryphon be there!” But when she arrived the grove was empty. The waxing crescent moon shone down wanly as she wept for fear and despair. She cried, “Ah, Ah, Ellulianaen. Ellulianaen, what hope is there?”