Hoarding Medieval Thirst

Total words: 6,014 Favorite Section: 

Whatever heat of the day had long since disappeared with the sun. As a lone breeze swirled kitchen scraps off of trash heaps and rippled water in the gutters, a chill crept along the exposed flesh of Betony’s chest and hands. Its icy fingers clawed at her skirt, and she was thankful for the thicker wool of her winter hose.

“Could you walk a bit closer?” Betony asked, looking up to see Edwards familiar silhouette. He was the only bit of warmth she’d have until they reached cordwainer’s lane, and it was quite a walk from Thames and Harp.

total words: 2,005  a favorite section:  “Perhaps,” Edward stalked forward, his eyes meeting hers. “We can create a need for new wine.”  Carefully, he reached over her shoulder to close the door of the cupboard behind her, and a smile flickered across his lips. 

Betony’s heartbeat fluttered, and her face grew hot. “I couldn’t lie to my mother.”