Maren Hunsberger

Silver

The sound of the water on her push pole was almost imperceptible as Edhen propelled her skiff through the reeds. Hair sticking to her damp neck, Edhen hoped the mud she had covered herself in to blend in with the night was thin enough to not fall off in chunks as she tried to keep her movements to a minimum. She saw a flurry of motion to her side and dropped into a crouch, the skiff pole blending into the reeds of the marsh as she stilled the craft’s progress. A stork took off into the air, and she watched in amazement as she saw it only had two legs—a rarity these days. She’d have to tell the Mamm when she returned home so the scouts could come back and check if there were eggs this season, and if the shells were holding. This could mean a good year. This could change things.