A Spring Day

Like many tales I’ve told, I’ve gotten ahead of things. Told you the end but nothing of the whys and wheres. Your faces and eyes tell me how surprised, some of you shocked even, you are that her knife found itself sheathed in his flesh.

I owe you, my friends, the rest of the story. Well, I owe you more than that of course, so very much more. For now, though, all I have is the rest of the story. I hope you will forgive me for how small this first step in repaying my debt to you is.

They met as most people do, quite by accident. It was the first nice day of the year. A day that fulfilled the fits and starts and teases of the previous weeks. She was dressed for weather warmer still. Caught up in the promise of sunlight and budding leaves she left her arms bare to be chilled by the air. But for the skin under two thin straps, the sun would color her shoulders faintly by the end of the day. Her calves were exposed to the snow-flavored breeze that rolled down from the peaks to the east.

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