wherestoriescomefrom: “You impossible, wretched, nonsensical contradiction, what on earth have
wherestoriescomefrom: “You impossible, wretched, nonsensical contradiction, what on earth have you done now?” I sat back on my heels in some indignation: this, when I had just saved not only his life, but everything he might be, and all the kingdom from whatever the Wood might have made from him. “What I ought to have done?” I demanded. “And how I to know to do it? Besides, it worked, didn’t it?” For some reason, this only made him nearly incoherent with fury, and he levered himself up from my cot, threw the book across the room, all the notes flying everywhere, and flung himself out of the hallway without another word. “You might thank me!” I shouted after him, outraged myself, and his footsteps had vanished before I recalled that he had been wounded at all in saving my life - that he had surely pressed himself to terrible lengths to come to my aid at all. Ink and water. I love love love this scene!!! As usual for the Uprooted Harvest Faire by @uprootedficathon. -- source link
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