>Marel. The name chimed in his head like the temple bell, bringing back more distant memories... He put them aside.
>But such was the way of things these days. Feelings of unexplained familiarity were commonplace. Marel Thoran, the woman who had reveled most in the pride of being Clen's wife, regardless that he had carried the uncommon title of Lord Marshall at one time, had quietly sunk into nonexistence through the summer and autumn months as her husband's illness had deteriorated him such to the point that he did not even recognize her. And then one day, he had vanished. If there'd been a note, it was never found. Having always been a fastidious woman in life, Marel was now a spiritually lost woman as winter came on. In fact, Marel never lifted a finger to clean from that day Clen disappeared. Dust now covered everything thickly. It would have covered her as well if there wasn't a path from the old chair before the fire to the kitchen and back again giving the only indication that the woman did indeed still walk. She passed days and nights in that chair. She never answered the door nor the mail. She never went out. But the storage of funds for food and fuel were running low, and the woman's life would surely drain from her veins soon. If he was dead, she simply longed to join him. But for now, she stared at the fire and remembered her Clenny with a fondness in her cloudy eyes. -- To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Archives & Other DMI Lists: http://www.dragonmyst.f2s.com/lists.php3
