Fires of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar) by Chris Anne Wolfe

Author:Chris Anne Wolfe [Wolfe, Chris Anne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9781886383425
Publisher: Orchard House Press
Published: 2010-11-30T16:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Two

“Llinolae?” Gwyn crouched low just outside of the cave-like den of the tree roots, holding a cloth bundle and cake of soap. The early afternoon air was humid and heavy with the promise of rain shortly, and she wasn’t about to waste the opportunities a storm could present right now. Softly, she called again, “Llinolae?”

There was a sudden rustle. Then stillness was followed with a tentative, “Yes?”

“The rains will start soon.”

“Yes.” A shadowy figure resolved into Llinolae’s disheveled self. She crawled out into the light with a blanket in hand. “Thank you for the rest. It has helped.”

“Would a quick scrub and a fresh shirt help more?” Gwyn gestured at her armload with a lopsided grin. “Wish I could offer more, but most of my gear trotted off with Nia and Ty. And we won’t meet up with them for another day or two.”

Llinolae’s blue eyes flickered between the soap and the game trail behind them. The tip of her tongue brushed her lower lip almost hungrily, and her hoarse voice carried a note of yearning, “Dare we?”

“Aye! Come on!” Gwyn tugged her gently by the wrist, and Llinolae discarded the blanket in eager compliance. The creek babbled and called from below the short slope, and in little time the two of them had scurried down to meet the bubbling waters. Lithe, Gwyn hopped across the stones to a flat rock in mid-stream that sat beneath a drooping, young honeywood. She tossed the towel and tunic over a limb as if it were a clothes rack and found the soap a rocky niche next to her feet. Laces fumbled loose, she went to strip that smoke-tainted vest and tunic from her body, glancing up quickly to Llinolae on the shore. Abruptly their gazes caught and they both froze, each stayed with fists full of fabric and arms cris-crossed in preparation of shedding their shirts. Then just as suddenly they were grinning like fools and sharing in silent laughter as they peeled out of the grimy clothes.

As Llinolae left the short trousers on the shore and waded into the ankle deep stream, Gwyn felt herself go still again. She didn’t even move when the soap was snatched from its rocky shelf. She stood, half in shock from the swatch of bruises beneath Llinolae’s left breast and half in stunned amazement at the sheer beauty of the lean body before her. Even smudged with soot and mud, her skin pale except for those purpled abuses of limbs and ribs, even with that hacked mess of a hair cut, this woman was beautiful. Tall as Gwyn was herself, small breasted with darkened nipples that grew taut in the splashing rinse of the creek’s waters, sleek with strength and decisiveness in those quick movements — all converged to tie Gwyn’s tongue in a way that hadn’t been done since her adolescence. Speechless, she barely managed to draw a breath, and she felt a sudden rush of warmth as her skin flushed

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