This entry is to celebrate the fact that another of my stories about the wanderer, Thon of the River People, was picked up by Short-Story.me and appears on their site today. No joke, honest!
Below is the first few paragraphs to A Song of Danard.
The town of Danard was sung the world over, its walls old before the foundations of many a lodge were laid. Thon looked up as he left the forest that lay north of the place.
The town spilled down the two sides of the peak he could see, and those sides he couldn't. A road ran from the main gate, following the course of a small river, source of the town's water.
He nodded appreciation for the town's builders. "A hard place to overthrow," he said. Thon settled his shield on his back and began the steep road to the town. There was little shade to be had and he stopped after an hour to quench his thirst.
"You are far from home, Man of the River."
Thon whirled at the sound of the voice, his black knife ready in his hand. A scraggly tree, branches bare but for a few leaves, stood near a curve in the river. Beside it sat a woman of many years, her brown robe shapeless on her, her hair thin and gray. Her face was leathered from years of sun, her eyes bright with intelligence.
"Who are you, woman," Thon said, "that you know me?"
The remainder of the story may be found here: A Song of Danard: Short-Story.me.
I hope you enjoy it.