“The Captain sent me,” the voice repeated. Hernan pushed himself up, in spite of the pain from his injuries; dimly, beyond Taryn’s silhouette, a girl in a Crew’s black coverall and blue leads stood in a pool of light that hadn’t been there before. She looked no more than sixteen or seventeen, curvy and solid, dark-skinned, with an elaborate coiffure of braids and snowflake-necklaces woven through them.
Hernan remembered Melisand at Midsummer, with similar stars in her hair. Unknowing, she had dedicated herself to the Queen of the Snows, and to her sister the Daughter of Storms, the principle of destruction and chaos, the guardian of those who left the ground.
“I’m Taryn. I’m following Martisset yr Astok; nothing to her harm, mind you, and I thank her for rescuing my cousin Arna, but it’s time she came back home.” She sounded authoritative, as if she were representing some Power, and wasn’t, like him, a grubby stowaway armed only with a crossbow.
From NaNo 2014, untitled romance with rayguns.
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