drsawzall

Is this a proverbial calm before the storm, a tempest in a teapot... Or acceptance, no matter how difficult... The limit arrived. The composure broke. The tears arrived without sound. The tears were not about the sex. The tears were not about the betrayal. The tears were about the hope.

Is the Deer planning to sacrifice himself? Shouldn't the chapter be better titled Underhanded? Who's giving Arlo a "hand"!!!

Thank goodness it wasn't a stop sign....or a pooper scooper....

I feel that you should continue!!

You only have yourself to blame...🤔

In reading the comments, I wonder if the spirit of the slain Scotsman speaks another battle that Kaylan, Ronan, and Thomas, along with those who stood beside them. The one where all must come to terms with the horror and struggle they endured. If the King, knowing of Thornmere’s heroic stand, failed in his support at this time, would be a blackened stain on his reign. It would shine like a beacon, to those who waver in support to all who hear.

I fear Clint is like the Energizer Bunny crossed with a pile driver…

Had a crazy thought, if the artifact looks like a turd, would it not make sense to excavate the old manure pits?

Perilous days ahead, will there be enough time to get all in readiness? Will the King offer support? After all, this is his battle as well….

Poor Daniel, does he truly know what he’s in for?..will he survive Clint?

Thanks for this, a few more stories to add to the reading list!!

I have to say that rarely a story will come along and get me to react the way I do, as seen by my comments. I blame it all on the author for crafting such a tale, and it is a testament to a story well written...

Yes, I did. I was able to take charge of my life, and while that relationship did not last the test of time, it taught me so much!

I can see it now, Fenn and Ain squaring off against each other….this is just so freaking stupid…Fenn can’t be that idiotic…. Have we reached the bottom yet?

I have to agree, Yarima got valuable information she never should have…. Someone(s) need to stand up from both sides and stop this foolish nonsense….too many people have died, and for what?

It’s the freaking butler….sheesh….

A fate almost worse than death… We needed you! Even Rusne fell back with us, while you just took off running!” “Fuck…” Arlo stared at his missing hand in dismay. “That was my jacking off hand

Ah the pangs and worries of true love…

I struggled with this as much of this reflects my growing up and thank you for reading!

Well…Virgil McClain is a red herring and the following is very interesting to say the least… "I...I didn't know it was so serious," she said. "I heard it from Pamela Morgan." "I don't know her. Do you have any idea where she learned about it?" "I would imagine from her mother, Celia Vessey." "Miss Vessey from the tribal council?"

Reality bites in a harsh way with the loss of Ferney, bringing starkly home what the 1st worlds insatiable hunger for illegal drugs. The following snippet brings much of the problem to light. I also find the response by Hunter’s father concerning in what he said and the way he said it… As long as there is a market for drugs, there will be people willing to supply them, and with all the money involved, there will always be violence. This isn’t a war we can ever win. We got Pablo Escobar, the Cali Cartel, and Colombia today is producing way more cocaine now than it did back then. This war is a lost cause. You may take down one cartel, but another will always pop up to take its place. It’s pointless.” His voice dropped. “You will never say that the work I do is ‘pointless’ again. Do you understand me? We are doing God’s work down here.”

Oh boy…from the proverbial frying pan to the fire….

I look back on those in my life who have passed, and dealing with each was different, Not easy, just different. Accepting doesn’t come any easier, and as corny or trite it may sound, the passage of time helps in gaining perspective.

What he said…

Somehow I feel the pendant will play an important role in the story… He was about Aiden’s age, slight, dark-haired, dressed in a green tunic with pale red hemming at the cuffs and neck. Something metallic glinted at his throat. A small pendant or torque, catching the light. The sunset glow made it hard to see the details clearly, but the shape of him was unmistakable: still, calm, as though he had been waiting.