Amber woke with a start to a sound that was at the same time familiar and unsettling. The trill warbling of the willow thrush was a common sound during summer in the Silverwood; a bird that all young elven children knew well, and whose warbling call they often mimicked. It wasn’t a sound she expected to hear in the middle of winter on a river in the middle of Bantara at night.
Spring is traditionally a time for cleaning up and clearing out — so what better time to give the manuscript of Empire a bit of a spring clean? I needed to re-read the book anyway (I did write the original more than 15 years ago now) so that it would be fresh in my mind […]
You never know when you get up in the morning what the day has in store. Oh, you might think you know. You might think you have it all worked out, that the online time management course you did worked, and you have your day all planned out. But what they never tell you is […]