Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit
It was a garden once, so the old ones tell us, but now these lands are hunting grounds.
Rosemary and I ventured forth to silflay, down away from the broken bones and the hraka. I caught the stench coming downwind and stamped my foot quick and hard – too late; the embleer creature had its throttling hands around her throat and she was gone.
Tall men with bright spears and bright eyes hunt and slay each other. The forest runs red with blood and the owl shrieks in the night.
The Black Rabbit of Inlé stalks these lands. Frith protect us.
Written for the LotR drabbles at HASA.