Stephanie Carpenter

Maybe, he had always known something was wrong.

But he hadn’t discovered what it was until the day he spat hatred out his bedroom window. He was nineteen. He was more than a man and his clean hands painted and wrote. His trained voice spoke and sang. His gloved hands handled a horse well and his clothes were unstained in his own blood, which set him apart from his brothers.

Earlier that day, the answer to Torsten’s evaded question had been revealed. A bird had arrived at the watchtower. They used carrier pigeons and falcons at the castle, but the bird that perched on the battlements was neither. This bird was yellow with a long tail like a flag, black stripes on its face, and black blots on the tips of its wings.

hannaz

i was prepared for it

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