Until the Mountains Fall
by Connilyn Cossette
25 AV, 1380 BC
I’d been here before. Seated on the same three-legged stool with the same two girls plaiting the black locks around my head, their hands fragrant with sweet almond oil as they entwined tiny white flowers into the braids. Only this time, their matrimonial blessings rang hollow and the smiles they offered were tinged with grief instead of joy.
NOW IT IS YOUR TURN!
GRAB THE BOOK YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING, OPEN TO CHAPTER ONE, AND POST THE FIRST SENTENCE (OR SECOND SENTENCE) IN THE COMMENTS BELOW.
THEN HEAD ON OVER TO HOARDING BOOKS TO SEE ALL OF THE FLF PAGES THIS WEEK (JUST CLICK ON THE FLF BUTTON BELOW).