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Not a knick marred the edge. It had a simple hand guard and a stout half-moon pommel. It was made for killing, not hanging as an ornament from a rafte... in a hall. Sunburner thrummed in his hand. The blade thirsted for blood and this was good, for he could not hope that his family still lived, not if the stream had spoken true. He could imagine his wife and son floating on the river, sightless eyes staring to the heavens. Grief like a bear’s crushing hug seized his chest. The woods around him. "I've got one," he announced. "And she's a perfect candidate." Who is it?" Don't be obvious by looking. She's sitting behind me, about three tables back." Which one?" The black haired girl. Her name is Sara Burroughs." She's cute." Ed appraised the woman. Dark-haired with a slender, attractive figure, her face was pretty without being gorgeous, although the serious expression she wore seemed to reduce her appeal a bit. Ed thought of seeing her sprawled on the bed in a hotel room and his groin. More

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