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Sometimes the salve can seem more gruesome than the wound, and Haaral is learning that the hard way. This is the opening scene to Chapter 1 of Tegn, so let me introduce you to Haaral, Hertha, and Greyda on an early morning in the Heiduholt kitchen, when our story, if it can be said to start at any one point, begins. Here is a small excerpt, you can find the whole chapter on Patreon.
“Oh look at the state of you, all torn and bruised and filthy as troll snot. Leaky as a beggar's wine-skin too” She picked at some threads hanging from what was left of his sleeve, where the stitchwork had ripped on some thorny branches, and the fabric was sticky with blood from a cut. I didn’t sting so bad, until Mother wanted to clean it “But sit still, you little ferret, you can’t be off like this. And not a wink of sleep I should guess. And now there is no time. What do I do with you, little tuss?” Haaral knew that for a question he’d do best not to answer, so he held his tongue as she cupped his chin in her hand and locked eyes.
“My love; ember-of-my-heart; sweet darling boy. Please. Sit still, and your ears won’t need pinching again. There is much to do before the day comes in full, and now I must need stitch you back together as well, so my love; be still” The words were honey over iron, and Haaral demurred, swallowing his protests at the memory of ears, red as autumn apples.