Famine #44: Memories of Love
So this week was looking grim, but then I got confirmation on the final model for the Famine cover. That made me happier. And, guys, this cover is gonna be stunning. 😀
Okay, so now on to posting from Famine for Weekend Writing Warriors. I’ve been editing this week — tweaking old material and adding a lot of new words, like this little memory of Bartholomew’s long-dead wife, Aemelia.
He closed his eyes and remembered returning to his wife after a long campaign in Barbaricum. How she had bared her body to him, opened herself to his need, and taken all of his longing. She had never asked about the scars he bore; he was a soldier, a Gaul, a warrior. Scars were part of his history, and she’d said they warned of his strength to any man who would question his power.
There was their small house, always dim and smoky from the hearth fire. Aemelia’s rough fingers snagging his tunic, the creak of leather as she undressed him. “This is new, and this one,” she had murmured as she’d inspected his skin for scabs and bruises. There was the saltiness of her lips and the sweetness of her tongue.
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