Saturday's Storyteller: "Honestly, that isn't an appropriate knife for that."
by Belinda Roddie "Honestly, that isn't an appropriate knife for that." Quinoni straightened up from her kill. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, threatening to drip down the scraped shield of her eyepatch. Blood browned what was once silver. She looked at the ornamental blade in her hand and furrowed her brow. "It's a Phreeback dagger," was her curt reply. "It's meant for survival."And with that, she wiped its blade onto the grass and left a trail of red across the foliage. The small elk was skinned and cooked over an open flame, all carefully monitored by Barkelee, who still had not said a word since discovering Mistress Kor's body. He simply hovered over the fire, occasionally adding more fuel in the form of dry brush or small sticks. The three were now only two or so miles away from the East Barronia border. With luck, they would be back in civilization in one more day. It had been six months since they had traveled to West