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For Rain Is To Wet and Fire To Burn by Robert Minto. The Bonfire of the Unknown and the Foreign by Abhijeet Sathe. BCS 281: For Rain Is To Wet and Fire To Burn by Robert Minto.
They plunged into the orange glowing mouth of my kiln—yes, the whole choir dove straight into the fire. It blazed white and emitted a stench of burnt feathers. Then the angels were nothing but dark bodies going to ash, leaving me on my knees staring after them shocked and silenced in disbelief.
Shon isn't afraid. This isn't the stark silence of his empty home. This living quiet conceals the stretch of new leaf to sun, the rustle of the worm, and the squirm of pink pinioned baby birds. It is the held breath of small lungs in small bone cages around small swift hearts that beat a little faster waiting for the listener and the whistler to pass by.
The wind turned, and the rustle of the field bled into the whistling of the wood, and more smoke blew closer. The air was bitter with it. He didn’t turn his gaze away from her. Anger. It was anger, there in its depths. She’d never had that directed at her before. Hadn’t had the chance to cause it, really. She let the hand holding the coins drop. “Tomorrow night.”
The Woods Echo Back by Tania Fordwalker. Worth the Whistling by Adriana C. Grigore. BCS 279: The Woods Echo Back by Tania Fordwalker.