Blossom of Ruin: Two

The river was chill, but not cold. The current was swift, but not torrential. Sabit made her way quickly toward the bank.

Finding purchase on a boulder half-submerged, Sabit’s eye caught something out of place, reflecting the sunlight from beneath the murky water’s surface. Swimming closer, she grasped a necklace of finely-wrought silver chains as thick as her thumb. It felt like a month of warm food, perhaps more.

The bauble was wedged between two large rocks, held there by the force of the current for years without number. Sabit fished a bit of twine from a drenched pouch and secured the necklace to her wrist. With legs braced against one stony surface, back pressed against another, and the skilled application of her spear as a lever, Sabit pushed.

The rocks held still. Water surged over her face.

The rocks held still. Sabit strained until stars spotted her vision.

The rocks rewarded such effort with the tiniest of budges. It was enough.

Clambering onto the shore, Sabit found the shelter of a fallen tree and hung her wet skirts and drenched belongings to dry in the afternoon sunlight, clear and strong. The necklace she kept close. Its constellation of seven-pointed charms and minute chain links had tasted wilderness. Sabit was sure they would rebel against her continued possession, given half a chance.

The day was troubled, but not ruined. Her journey was delayed, but not despoiled. In the sunshine, Sabit considered her options.


Wayfarings of Sabit: Blossom of Ruin is copyright (c) 2016 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon:

Blossom of Ruin: One

Sabit’s reverie nearly ended her life.

The warrior’s foot was poised to step upon a sleeping bear cub when the mother’s roar shook Sabit from her thoughts. Instinct lowered her iron-tipped spear to face the mother’s charge, the butt set firm against a root. The hillside was steep. The mother bear charged up through underbrush toward the narrow path where Sabit stood. There would be another half-dozen heartbeats before the spear’s metal point would face the enraged ursine’s jaws.

At five heartbeats, Sabit made a decision.

At four heartbeats she lifted her spear and charged down the embankment, toward the raging beast.

At three heartbeats, she ran like the breeze itself.

At two heartbeats, Sabit thrust the spear-butt to the ground, grasped near the wicked iron tip with her hands, and vaulted into the air. The bear lunged with its body, swiped with its claws, snapped with its teeth. Sabit smelt the bloody salmon on its breath.

Catching a tree branch, Sabit yanked the spear to her by a leather thong. She climbed quickly over the river where the mother bear had been fishing. The branch bent and creaked at her weight.

Another roar filled the air. The mother bear stood at the base of the tree trunk, poised to ascend. Sabit cursed her luck and whatever goddess had “gifted” her with a wandering mind.

With all her might, Sabit leapt toward the branch of a tree on the river’s far bank.

Her right hand caught the branch. The branch snapped. Sabit fell.

Nothing cleared the mind of distraction quite like a swim.


Wayfarings of Sabit: Blossom of Ruin is copyright (c) 2016 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon:

New story starts November 1st


The first tale of Sabit the Wayfarer, Blossom of Ruin, starts on Tuesday.

Blurb: Sabit lives by her wits and her spear. When a cutpurse makes off with a bauble, what will Sabit risk to regain what is hers? What bitter, uncanny fruit will bloom from her thirst for vengeance, or justice?

This story will span the month of November. A new story will start December 1.

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