Rose’s hand stroked his cheek. “Ohhh, Penn. This well-fed English…
Penn pulled himself into the gap between two merlons and plopped onto the walkway.
Hurried footsteps sounded softly.
He rolled over. His left hand held his flechette pistol.
A figure blocked the larger moon in the night sky. Silver lamè hotpants caught bright glimmers against the blackness beyond. The halo of phosphorescent hair marked the person as Ofanion.
“Penn, what the heck is going on?”
Ah, Ohk’s daughter. The woman he had wanted to talk to, amongst other things.
He held up his arm, trigger button loosened. “Rose, I presume. I almost shot you. “
“And good luck with that, journeyman.” She pushed the gun away.