By David C. Daoust The Collier’s Yard was a misshapen mess of uneven ground and stacked piles of wood. Years of being used for pit fires had left small hilly bumps and mounds throughout. Much of it was charred, some of which was black as pitch. Impressive tufts of wild growth managed to reclaim some…
By David C. Daoust Khadory followed along as the grey bearded Tharnan led the two oxen, pulling the wood laden cart, into what appeared to be a makeshift shanty town. A town of tents and encamped wagons surrounding a sectioned off work yard, populated by more Baeldhori than Khadory had ever witnessed. Each with the…
We have a store now. It seems to me like announcing that we have a store now is a pretty good reason to take a week off. Maybe I should have come up with some sort of copy to put up, but that sounds like ‘extra-work’. When have I ever been interested in extra-work?? You…
By David C. Daoust Chantilles was not where she was supposed to be. She was supposed to be with the other women, huddled around, placing threshing stones. Jagged little rocks meant to be embedded in a curved wood plank, a sledge, used for threshing. They were getting close to the summer harvest; the winter wheat…